


Tauron Cherry

by afrakaday



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Caprica - Freeform, F/M, Tauron, cherry cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:16:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrakaday/pseuds/afrakaday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU of extreme fluff about the life events of young and tattooed Bill and Laura Roslin-Adama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tauron Cherry

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to newnumbertwo for the great prompt that started this whole thing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill arrives home from a mission to find Laura baking something special.

Lieutenant Bill Adama walked up the five flights of stairs with a spring in his step, notwithstanding the heavy duffel slung over his shoulder or the fact that its strap was pushing his insignia into his neck. After a monthlong mission, he was finally back on Caprica for a two-week leave. And he intended to spend as much of those two weeks as possible with the red-haired vixen awaiting him inside the apartment.

Ever since meeting Laura, a graduate student in education, in the mysteries section of a bookshop a year earlier, he’d been smitten. She’d been uncertain about dating a military man, in a long-distance relationship at that, but his persistence had worn her down. He loved that she challenged him to be a better person - soldier, scholar, partner. Lover. Between phone calls and occasional stints planetside, they were still going strong. He’d even given up his apartment, at her insistence, a few months ago, since they hardly ever left her place when they were together.

He couldn’t wait to see her. And he couldn’t believe they’d only have a few hours together tonight before they’d have to rouse themselves from the warm nest of her bed.

“You never visit your Tsattie anymore,” he’d been lectured in a birthday card a few weeks ago. “Come and see me on your next leave. I’ll cook your favorites, you bring dessert.” So Bill had acquiesced to the family matriarch and arranged for dinner on his first night home. He’d made a vague reference to possibly bringing a “friend” with him to Tsattie that he was pretty sure she’d seen right through. Laura had readily agreed to go with him, giggling prettily over the phone when he’d invited her.

He had asked Laura to take care of dessert before he got home, so they could maximize their reunion time together before heading out to Qualai. While Laura was a great cook, she didn’t really seem to enjoy baking, and he’d just assumed she would pick something up from the bakery down the street. He was thus totally unprepared for the sight that greeted him when he finally unlocked the second deadbolt and opened the door.

The foyer adjoined the galley kitchen, so he had a clear view of Laura bent over an open oven, pushing a springform pan full of batter onto the center of the top rack. She was wearing a frilly apron made of a blue material printed with little Vipers and edged in lace...and nothing else.

“You’re home!” she said, punching the keypad to set the timer before hurrying to him. She closed the door shut behind him and turned the lock. Bill was frozen, mouth hanging open as he admired her attire, or lack thereof.

Undaunted, she stepped up to him and embraced him, their bodies pressing together as closely as possible. He inhaled deeply his armful of Laura. She smelled like...cherries?

It wasn’t her usual scent, but he was definitely home nonetheless.

She pulled away slightly, rose up on her toes so she could kiss him properly. “Missed you,” she said, grinning.

He swallowed against the lump lodged in his throat. “Me too,” he rasped. “That’s a nice color on you.”

She blushed and looked away but stood up proudly; the bib of the apron barely covered her breasts, the wide sash emphasized the slenderness of her waist. “I made it myself,” she said, starting to giggle. “It was a project at the school, the kids all had the option of making a chef’s jacket or an apron. When I saw this material I knew I had to have one.” Her hands instinctively sought the deep pockets of the apron’s front. He chased after them, took each of her hands in his and brought them behind her back, coming to rest on her bare backside beneath the sash.

“I love it,” he said, leaning down to kiss her deeply. When he finally pulled away, he noticed the scent of cherries had intensified. “So what’s for dessert?”

Their eyes met and they didn’t need to express what they were both thinking -- _other than me?_ \-- so she smiled and said smugly, “Tauron cherry cake.”

“Have you made it before?” he asked her carefully. Tauron cherry cake was notoriously hard to make from a recipe; it seemed the recipes that worked best were those handed down verbally from one generation to another. He’d never made it himself, but he had happy memories of eating it as a child.

“Nope. But I used a good source,” she promised, leading him by the hand into the kitchen. She dipped her finger into a bowl sitting next to the sink and scraped it along the side, accumulating pinkish-white batter. Satisfied, she held her finger out to him in offering, and he brought it to his lips, engulfing the entire digit, and sucked.

Laura moaned, and the sound set him off; as tasty as the cake batter might be, it was her he wanted to taste. He reached his hands behind her back and began to untie the sash. “Bed. Now,” he said, military sternness battling the plaintive urgency in his voice.

She squirmed against him but let him take the apron off. “Bill...the cake...” She gestured to the timer, which showed over fifteen minutes left of baking time.

“It’s enough time,” he said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively and tilting his head in the direction of her bedroom. She just shook her head, smiled, and resolutely started stripping him there in the kitchen.

* * *

“So where’d you find the recipe? A cookbook?” he asked from his dazed sprawl on the kitchen floor, fifteen minutes later, as she pulled out a perfectly souffled cherry cake from the oven.

She set it down on a wire rack and scoffed at him over her bare shoulder. “Everyone knows Tauron Cherry Cake can’t be made from a book.”

“How’d you make it, then?” he asked her, rising off the floor and leaning his hands against the counter on either side of her waist, trapping her between it and his body.

“Your grandmother told me,” she said, and in that moment, Bill knew that Laura Roslin was the girl he was going to marry, and that he would ask her tonight.  



	2. Tauron Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Laura are young and in love and perhaps just a little impulsive.

It’s late when they finally reach Laura’s apartment-- _their_ apartment-- and they laugh at one another as they race up the stairs, both out of breath by the time Bill picks Laura up and carries her over the threshold.

“Bed. Now,” she orders with a giggle.

He pretend-starts toward the kitchen. “I thought we might try the kitchen floor again...it was so nice, last time.”

“No baking keeping us from our bed, this time,” she demurs, cupping his jaw fondly. “Besides, I wouldn’t want you to injure your wound.”

His hip throbs slightly at her mention of it, and he gently lowers her to her feet, though his hand remains on her bottom, possessive and guiding her toward the bedroom.

Laura falls back onto the soft mattress, hooks her legs behind his and pulls him down on top of her. “I’ve wanted you again since we first left the house,” she says in a throaty voice. "I wondered about your sanity when you pulled off the highway on the way home." She moves gracefully beneath him, shifts her dress up and over her head, leaving her in bra and panties. She starts working on his clothes next, but it’s taking too long. He straddles her and strips off his button-down and tanks, enjoying the predatory look in her eye as she takes in the broad expanse of his bare chest.

“Careful,” she says, unbuttoning his fly for him and tugging gently. He ignores her unsubtle request and leans down to bring his lips to hers. “Gods, Laura. I love you so much,” he whispers between fervent kisses.

She smiles against his mouth, whispers her own love in return. Then, taking him by surprise, she rolls him onto his back and pulls his pants off for him.

Her fingers play at the edge of the tape holding the bandage against his skin. “I wanna see it,” she says. “Can this come off for now?”

He nods, and peels the bandage away carefully. The artist had answered a similar question for Bill in the affirmative shortly after he’d been inked. “Just make sure you dress it again afterward,” he’d said, winking.

Bill had never gotten a traditional Tauron tattoo before, hadn’t ever felt the need to mark life’s passages in the manner of his ancestors. But after tonight-- being in Qualai with his family, their wholehearted acceptance of the lovely woman he’d brought with him, his proclaiming his love for that woman to her and to anyone else who would listen-- he’d known he was finally ready. And he still knows, as she brings her mouth to his cock, takes all of him and swirls her tongue like she’ll never get enough of him. Oh, he’s ready.

He removes his hand from where it had ended up, tangled in her hair, and gently pushes on her shoulders to signify for her to stop. She stands up between his legs, and he sits up so he can remove her bra, bury his face in her breasts.

Dizzy with emotion and need, Bill finds purchase for his hands against her ass and she presses against him impatiently. “Bill, please,” she breathes.

As he tugs at her panties and lowers them over her hips and down her legs, a small square gauze bandage, not unlike the one just removed from his person, catches his attention.

“What’s this?” he asks, touching the skin at her hipbone, just next to the bandage. He turns them both so she’s laying across the bed and he can get a better view.

She smiles coyly but winces as the adhesive stubbornly separates. “It’s small...”

He settles between her thighs and examines the art closely. A pair of cherries, each round red fruit the size of his pinky nail and connected by thin green stems, has been etched against the canvas of her pale skin.

“The girl at the parlor was able to do it really quickly while you were going over what you wanted done,” she says, her face falling slightly at his lack of audible reaction. “Do you not like it?”

He presses gentle kisses all around the marker of her own commitment, saucy though it might be, and lifts his head. “I love it.” His lips roam from her hip down to the top of her thigh, down to the inside and back up until his nose is just brushing against soft curls. He lifts his head again, and she sighs in anticipation. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” he says, and slowly seeks her clit with his tongue.

“My husband,” she says, breathlessly trying the title out. She writhes against him, pulls at his arms for him to come back to her.

“Wife,” he says, and she places a hand just above the pair of interlocked rings inked into his olive skin to guide him to complete her, as they join together for the first time for the rest of their lives.  



	3. Tauron Tramp Stamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura has unexpected new body art and news for Bill.

The afternoon sun beats down, warming them both to the point that they break a sweat and begin removing clothing. Laura stretches in her lounge chair as she pulls her cover-up over her head and tosses it to the wooden decking; Bill’s eyes hungrily follow the catlike arch of her back, the sun-kissed skin of her navel and decolletage, as he watches from his own reclining vantage point a few feet away.

They’ve rented the seaside cottage for the week, anticipating lazy lovemaking mornings and afternoon-long walks along the coast of the Caprican Sea. They’ve stocked the pantry and the beer cooler and gotten charcoal for the little grill that came with the house. They’re taking the term “shore leave” literally, with Bill’s commanding officer giving his blessing to let the newlyweds take a belated honeymoon. This is their time to relax.

“Happy?” he asks, his voice rumbling over the soothing crash of faraway waves.

Her eyes are closed and at first she just smiles and nods, the sunlight reflecting off the bright white of her teeth. With great effort, she swings her legs down to the ground and crosses the deck to the railing overlooking the sand dunes and the beach beyond.

“I’m very happy, Bill,” she says, smiling over her shoulder at him before turning back to look out at the dunes. And she looks it, positively glowing with health and contentment.

An unfamiliar dark brown swirl peeks out at him from the back of the waistband of her bathing suit bottoms. At first he thinks his eyes are deceiving him, or perhaps just aging. But he blinks, looks again; it’s still there, a coaster-sized swirl of brown with blue accents, centered between the adorable dimples adorning her lower back.

“Laura? You have something to show me?” he asks, getting up to stand behind her so he can look more closely at the unexpected design. It’s one he vaguely recognizes, though nothing anyone in his family had. Two abstract draped figures with flowing hair face each other, legs crossed over one another’s and arms intertwined.

She shivers despite the heat as the roughened pads of his fingertips slowly discern the distinct shapes. She pushes back against him, further into his touch, and smiles when he gently turns her in his arms.

“You got a new tattoo,” he says, unnecessarily.

“Well, I had to commemorate it somehow, but I wanted to put it somewhere that wouldn’t stretch out,” she begins to explain nervously.

“Commemorate what?” Peering around her waist and pulling her suit bottoms away from her skin, Bill realizes that it’s the historical emblem of Gemenon-- Caprica’s twin system, inked in the Tauron style-- but has no idea what she’s talking about. _Stretch out...?_

“Bill,” she breathes, reaching for his hands and bringing them both to her lower belly. “I know it’s maybe a little sooner than we’d talked about...we’ve only been married a few months...”

His pressed lips begin to stretch wide despite himself. “Yeah?” he prods.

“We’re having babies, Bill. Twins,” she says.

His smile becomes a full-fledged grin as he processes her news. “How long--”

“I’m at ten weeks. So, the last time you were home.”

In his joy, it strikes him as utterly irrelevant that in the Tauron tradition, it’s supposed to be the man who gets the tattoo to mark the conception of children, the woman’s body itself appreciated for showing enough evidence of the changes wrought by childbearing to render the ink unnecessary.

“I love you,” he says, kissing her. “I love this.” He turns her in his arms again so he can trail his lips down her spine and nuzzle the abstract twin rendition displayed across her skin. “And I love them,” he adds, last but not least, wending his way around to the front side of her body so he can do the same to the real thing within.

“I knew you would,” she says, pulling him up off his knees so she can press the length of her growing body against him and bring her lips to his.  



	4. Tauron Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura and the babies make an emergency trip to Tauron.

  
Laura had nearly finished feeding the babies their breakfast - a bottle of breastmilk for Phin, the pickier of the two, and some pureed prunes for Sephie - when a brusque rap at the door startled her from her sleep-deprived haze.

“What the fr--?”

She stood, holding Phin to her hip and setting down the jar of prunes with a sigh of resignation. Checking to ensure that Sephie was securely strapped in her high chair, she instructed her daughter, “Stay put,” and went to see who was at the door.

“Mrs. Adama?” asked the dark-haired, uniformed man from under mirrored sunglasses.

“Roslin-Adama. What can I do for you?” she asked, shifting a squirming Phin to her other hip and looking over her shoulder to check on Sephie.

“You’re married to Captain William Adama?”

She nodded slowly.

“May I come in?”

A deep sense of dread settled in her bones, causing her to hold her sweet Phin even closer. “Do you mind telling me who you are and why you’re here, first?”

The man had the decency to look embarrassed as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the breast pocket of his uniform. “Lieutenant Colonel Rick Matthews, ma’am. I’m a Fleet-family liaison based here in Caprica City.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry to have to inform you--”

Laura gasped, her knees weakened; she leaned heavily into the door frame, afraid she might pass out. “Oh, gods.”

“Your husband is in guarded condition at a military hospital on Tauron,” he said hurriedly, aware that his introduction had given her the wrong impression. “I’ll be happy to explain the details--”

Dumbly, Laura nodded and stepped aside to let him inside. “Have a seat in the living room,” she said, gesturing to the toy-strewn area off the foyer. “I’ll be right with you.”

Her hands were shaking as she lifted Sephie from her chair and brought both babies into the living room, placing them on a rubber play mat and hoping they would entertain themselves. She sank into the couch and looked at the man expectantly, ready for an explanation even as she feared it.

“Your husband was on a classified peacekeeping mission near the Armistice Line,” he began. “There was an engagement, and Captain Adama’s Viper was destroyed. He ejected and was recovered by a SAR team, but he’s suffered some head trauma and other injuries that will require rehabilitation.”

Laura frowned. “Classified peacekeeping” sounded like an oxymoron, questionable at best. She knew Bill’s unit had been sent out near Tauron on his last few missions, but this was the first she’d heard anything about the Armistice Line.

“So where is he now?” She hated the thought of him injured and so far from home. He’d been due for a lengthy shore leave in just over a week’s time, only his second leave since the twins were born.

“In a military hospital on Tauron. He’s expected to make a full recovery, though it will take some time. And he’s not yet stable enough to be moved either to the main Fleet rehab center on Picon, or back here on Caprica.”

Laura thought frantically. Her work on her dissertation could continue anywhere, and the babies were big enough to travel, though, like so many other things, it would be difficult doing it by herself. “How long is he expected to remain on Tauron?”

“I really couldn’t say, ma’am.” The lieutenant colonel reached into his pocket and pulled out a card embossed with the Colonial seal. “This is my contact information, and I’ve written the name and number of the hospital on the back.”

Laura accepted the card and immediately flipped it over. “Hypatia Military Medical & Rehabilitation Center,” it read.

“Can you help me arrange a transport?” she asked.

 

* * *

Laura anxiously pushed the double stroller down the halls of the military hospital, restraining herself from running as she maneuvered the unwieldy carriage around people in wheelchairs or with walkers. Each double room, each passing curtain brought her closer to Bill.

Finally, she found his room number at the end of the long corridor. The room was sunny and bright, having extra windows due to being at the end of the building, but the floor-to-ceiling curtain was nevertheless drawn tightly around what appeared to be the only occupied bed.

Phin started crying as soon as the stroller stopped moving, as he tended to do. Sephie, who’d fallen asleep the moment Laura placed her in her seat, woke at the sound of her brother’s crying and added her own higher-pitched squealing to the cacophony.

“Hello?” Laura called, her effort to use a soft and unobtrusive tone futile in the face of her screaming children. She set the brake and lifted Phin out so she could bounce him on her hip; as soon as he stopped crying, so did Sephie.

“Let’s go see Daddy,” she whispered to their son.

“Laura?” croaked an underused, raspy voice.

She drew back the curtain carefully, not sure what to expect. The sight that greeted her made her stomach drop at the thought of how close she must have come to losing him.

“Oh, Bill,” she said. Gauze bandages were wrapped around his head, and his left leg was propped up on a thick stack of pillows. His left arm, too, was splinted and wrapped up in a compression bandage. An IV access was taped to the inside of his right elbow.

“That’s a sight for sore eyes. And head, and leg,” he said. “C’mere.”

She approached him and, hitching Phin up higher on her hip, leaned over to place a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Not quite how I would have liked to greet my husband after all this time apart,” she said, smiling. She would have gotten a sitter to take the kids out to the park for an hour the moment he got home. She could count on one hand the number of times they’d made love since the babies were born, the unfortunate fact of Bill’s off-world assignments and the reality of life with two demanding infants. Now that the babies were finally a bit bigger and Laura was feeling more like herself, she’d intended to do something about it.

“Sorry about that,” he said, giving her a meaningful look. An appreciative look, if she knew her husband. She pushed her unruly hair out of her face and leaned down to kiss him again, lingering this time.

Phin’s fussing prompted her to pull herself away with a sigh. “Do I need to put you back in your seat?” she asked him rhetorically.

“Gods, he’s huge,” Bill said, looking at his son in wonder. “I think he’s doubled in size since I saw them last.”

“Ba-ba-ba!” declared Phin, reaching out an arm to his father.

“Wish I could hold you, buddy.” The joy in Bill’s eyes faded to disappointment as he shifted uncomfortably in his bed. “He has your eyes, sweetheart.”

Phin’s green eyes had still been an ambiguous hazel the last time Bill had been home. Laura held him up in a standing position at the edge of Bill’s bed so that Bill could see him better, and Bill smiled again. She slid her hand along his upper arm, bare thanks to his attire of a hospital gown. His skin felt cool and clammy; she’d have to bring him some blankets.

“Bill? Tell me what happened and where we go from here.”

He sighed. “Can I see my baby girl first?”

“Of course.” Laura hadn’t thought about how Bill wouldn’t be able to see Sephie from his reclining position. She pulled up the bars of the bed’s guard rail and propped Phin up against it. “Stay put,” she told him, glad the babies were not yet particularly mobile.

She turned around and deftly lifted a grinning Persephone from the stroller, cradling her in the crook of her arm. “Here’s Sephie,” she said softly, holding her out to Bill.

Bill placed his right hand over Phin’s little foot as he drank in the sight of his daughter. “Hey, muffin.”

Laura pulled off the girl’s knit hat and tried to tame wispy red hair with her fingers. Phin bounced his hand up and down over Bill’s excitedly as Sephie watched and wiggled in Phin’s direction. Giving in to the nonverbal cue, Laura placed Sephie next to Phin at the side of the bed, tucked in between Bill’s prone body and the guard rail.

Bill’s eyes welled with tears, and Laura wished she could crawl into the bed with the three of them and tell him everything would be all right. Instead she pulled a chair closer, and when Sephie tried to roll over onto Bill, plucked her daughter from the bed and onto her lap.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened?” she asked gently. “The Fleet liaison wouldn’t tell me anything at all.”

“I’ve got a few questions of my own,” he admitted. “I was unconscious when they recovered me after I ejected. The doctors told me they guessed that I got hit by a piece of my Viper after it exploded. Though the leg they think might have happened while I was still in the cockpit.”

“So what are your diagnoses?” she asked, wanting to get it over and know what they were dealing with.

“Head trauma-- they had to drill a hole in my skull to relieve the swelling, but that’s a lot better now, I just have these pounding headaches. Ligament damage and some deep wounds around my left knee. I can’t put any weight on it yet.” He looked down over his body, taking stock. “And something with my left arm. Burns, I guess.”

“Gods, Bill.” She reached her hand through the guardrail slats so she could hold his. “It sounds as if you are lucky to be here at all.”

He didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes as she ran her thumb back and forth over the top of his hand. Laura gently turned his arm over and began tracing the ink scripted across the inside of his forearm, markings he’d gotten as soon as they’d decided that the names Phineus and Persephone would suit their newborn children just fine. She’d been the one in a hospital bed, then.

“Bill?” Laura said after a few moments. “Why the hell did your Viper explode?”

One eye cracked open and looked around the room, scanning where the ceiling met the wall.

 _Not here_ , he mouthed.

“When can I take you home?” she asked instead.

 

* * *

 

It was a week later when Bill finally left the hospital, his wheelchair keeping him on a level with the twins in their stroller as Laura pushed the latter and an orderly the former into the bright afternoon.

The orderly handed Bill a pair of crutches and hovered closely as he made his way a few painstaking steps toward their transport. Once Bill was settled, Laura took care of getting the babies strapped into their seats and efficiently snapped closed the double stroller for storing in the back.

“You’re amazing,” he said as she finally sat down next to him and nodded at the driver that they were ready to go.

She gave him a tired smile. “You’re amazing,” she said. “You’ve made so much progress so quickly. We’ll be able to go home before long.”

They would be staying in family housing on the Tauron military base until Bill was cleared for space travel. In the meantime, they had some pretty major decisions to make.

Bill’s knee, shredded during his ejection, would never withstand the demands of piloting a Viper again. There’d been some talk of the possibility of a desk job on Picon, but those jobs had diminished in both number and importance in the years since the war’s end. The occupational counselor had encouraged Bill to start considering alternative careers in the face of his increasingly likely medical discharge from the Fleet.

Privately, Laura was relieved about this possibility. While she’d always supported Bill’s career-- it was such a huge part of who he was-- the thought of having him at home, around to help her raise their children, was incredibly appealing. She placed her hand on top of his.

“Home,” Bill said, the word sounding foreign, as if it were a difficult concept to grasp. Laura supposed that it must be, for him. Home had been a Viper for longer than it had been with her.

“We’ll figure it out, Bill.” She hoped she sounded more reassuring than she felt.

“I want to be with them, Laura,” he said slowly, nodding his head toward the babies behind them. “I need to be with you. You know how much harder it’s gotten to leave you each and every time I go off-world?”

She shook her head slightly, her eyes full of compassion.

“When I was out there, floating in space, losing air because my suit was damaged, all I could think about before I lost consciousness was that I’d never get to really know my children. And how much I love you,” he said. “You’ve given me this gift, and I’ve just--”

His voice was emotionally charged, broke slightly. Laura shushed him.

“Never mind that. You’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

The driver pulled up to the square gray box where Laura and the babies had been staying while Bill was in the hospital and the four of them would be calling home for the next week or two. It was identical to the hundreds of others they’d driven past.

“Here we are,” said the driver cheerfully. “Can I give you a hand with that stroller, ma’am?”

“That would be wonderful,” said Laura, flashing a grateful smile. She unhooked the car seats from their restraints and passed Sephie’s seat up next to Bill while she picked up Phin’s and carried him out of the van.

“Thank you so much,” she said, locking Phin’s seat into place. She returned a moment later with Sephie and did the same.

Bill had gotten his crutches, and with the driver’s help, made his way to the front door, Laura pushing the stroller patiently behind him.

“Home sweet home,” Bill said, collapsing into an ugly plaid couch and stretching his injured leg out and onto a battered-looking coffee table.

Laura waved goodbye at the driver after he’d helped her move the stroller into the house and sat down beside Bill, letting his good arm fall over her shoulders.

“It is,” she agreed, snuggling into his side. The dingy curtains and worn linoleum didn’t matter; they were safe, and together.

He placed a kiss to her hair and sighed as Laura slipped her hand under his shirt and tanks, her palm sliding up and over his pecs and coming to rest on his breastbone. Sephie started to cry quietly and squirmed in her seat.

Laura withdrew her hand slowly and looked at her wristwatch. “I need to put them down for a nap,” she said regretfully, not wanting to move.

“I wish I could help you,” he said, giving her a gentle nudge. “As soon as I can walk without crutches--”

“--you’ll be the nap enforcer,” Laura finished for him, smiling as she pushed herself up off the couch. “And you owe me more than a few diaper changes, too.” Picking up Sephie first, she turned back to him. “Why don’t you get settled in the bedroom while I put them down?”

Bill picked up his crutches and took several awkward hobbles out of the little living room, poking his head into the adjoining kitchenette briefly before following Laura as she carried Phin into the smaller of two bedrooms. It had one crib, the babies still small enough to comfortably share one and the room really too diminutive to hold more than the single crib, chair, and changing table anyway. Bill watched from the doorway as Phin instinctually wriggled closer to his sister and reached out his hand to hers.

“Do they always do that?” he whispered. “Hold hands?”

“They like to be touching when they sleep, yeah,” she answered. “Sometimes he’ll grab her foot instead.” She patted Sephie’s belly in soothing circles and stroked Phin’s chubby cheek as they obediently closed their eyes and drifted off.

Bill would have been content just to watch the picture before him indefinitely, but the pressure of the crutches under his arms was starting to add to the pain he was already experiencing in his head and leg. Suddenly dizzy, he faltered a bit as he tried to maneuver himself out of the doorway and toward the second bedroom. Laura was at his side in an instant.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her hushed tone full of worry.

“Yeah, just need to--”

“Right.” Laura took the left crutch from him and propped it against the wall, wrapping his arm over her shoulders so she could support him for the several steps it took them to reach the bed.

“Thanks.” He eased himself down and lay back, taking in the room. Fleet-blue walls, military-issue metal chests of drawers. A small desk, littered with equal parts baby paraphernalia--pieces of bottles, a rattle, a little book made of heavy cardboard pages--and stacks of books and journals, colored pens and sticky tabs Laura used for her research.

His field of vision was suddenly crowded by the concerned face of his wife. “Do you need anything? Meds, water?”

He shook his head. “Just need to lie down for a bit.”

Laura joined him on the bed, stretching out alongside him as they hadn’t been able to do in far too long.

“Missed you,” he said softly.

She propped herself up on her elbow and bent her head down to nuzzle his ear. “I love you,” she breathed.

“About time we were able to do this,” he said. “Gods, Laura--”

“Shhh,” she interrupted. “Let’s just enjoy it, hmm?”

Bill drifted off into the soundest sleep he’d had since the medically-induced coma they’d put him in when he first arrived at the hospital.

 

* * *

 

Bill sat on the couch, trying his best to keep Sephie interested in drinking from her bottle. “C’mon, muffin,” he pleaded as she squirmed against his burned arm. “Just a little bit more?”

“Aaaaah!” The redhead pushed the bottle away indignantly.

“Laura, I think she’s done,” Bill called.

She appeared a moment later, sporting a large green stain on her white t-shirt. “She barely drank a third of it.”

“She really didn’t seem into it,” he observed. “And it looks like the Great Pea Experiment isn’t going too well in there.”

“There are more mashed peas on me and the floor than in Phin, that’s for sure,” she sighed. “I’ll go get him and they can switch meals.”

Soon a contented Phin was sucking away at a bottle, nestled in Bill’s arms, while Laura seemed to be having success in feeding Sephie the peas if her frequent congratulatory encouragement was any indication.

“Someday you’re going to have to start eating real food, you know,” Bill said to his son. Phineus just gurgled happily and returned to vigorously sucking.

A few minutes later Laura came into the living room with a cleaned-up Sephie. “We did it,” she said, settling next to Bill on the couch.

“Until they’re hungry again in three hours,” he pointed out.

She laughed and bounced Sephie. “One meal at a time, Bill.” She looked around the living room, strewn with toys. “Time to start packing up. I can’t believe how much crap we accumulated in two weeks.”

Their neighbors, military families with young children of their own, had proved both friendly and generous, and the twins had quickly become recipients of many a well-loved hand-me-down. Laura was impressed and grateful to have experienced the support network before Bill’s time in the military ended, even if both were necessitated by the same unfortunate event. And even if the stream of curious but considerate strangers had pretty much ensured that she’d gotten no work done since she’d been here.

“It’ll be good to be home,” Bill said, stating her next turn of thought as he gave his left knee a tentative stretch.

“You excited about going back to school?” she asked with a smile.

“Been a while since I hit the books,” he said with a grin. “I guess your scholarly tendencies have rubbed off on me, Dr. Roslin.”

“It’s almost-Doctor, Roslin-Adama,” she corrected him playfully, leaning in for a kiss. “And you’ll be great.”

“With the three of you around to keep me in line? I better be making straight As.”

“I feel like we should get tattoos to celebrate your decision to study military history.” Laura pushed up his sleeve and examined his bicep, which already held a tribute to the end of the war: a viper facing a dove, positioned over a list of the callsigns of departed friends.

He shook his head. “Nope. Next tattoos are for when you finish and defend your dissertation. _Doctor._ ”

She ran her hand down his arm, trailing her fingers over the names of their children fortuitously inked into the arm that had suffered no damage in the accident. “Bill, I’m so glad you’re coming home with us, without another immediate departure hanging over everything.”

He shifted Phin to his other arm and tilted her chin up with his fingers. “Hey. It was time. I was an idiot not to realize it sooner.” He sighed. “The work just...seemed so important, you know? And it was what I knew how to do.”

“I still don’t understand what the hell happened to you out there,” Laura grumbled.

“And as we discussed, I’ll be better able to figure that out from the University of Caprica than from some administrative job on Picon.”

“Thank the gods,” Laura said, smiling her gratitude at the choice he’d made-- _they’d_ made-- once his concussed brain was capable of considering such things.

“Ga!” shouted Sephie, bringing her hands together contentedly.

“But, Bill?” Laura asked, a sheepish blush creeping across her cheeks. “You’ll keep at least one uniform around...right?” The uniform held so many memories of reuniting, of her tearing that blue jacket off him...

He met her eyes and saw the passion there, his own blue gaze darkening in response. “Yeah, sweetheart.”  



	5. Tauron Tykes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Roslin-Adama family participates in Little Tauron's Our Day celebration. Cuteness abounds.

  
The twins were napping, Bill was studying, and Laura was on a mission to clean up clutter. Their little wood-sided house tended to be easily overrun with baby gear, and she and Bill didn’t help matters with their tendencies to leave books and notes wherever they might find some open space on a table or countertop.

She started gathering up random papers, only vaguely checking to make sure nothing important was going into the trash bag. One bright yellow flyer caught her attention, and she paused to read it.

Someone had written “Bill and Laura--” in a flowing script at the top of the page. Laura read on.  


>   
> _OUR DAY CELEBRATION_  
>  Little Tauron, Caprica City
> 
> 10-5 Tauron food festival  
> 11 am Beautiful baby parade. Prizes will be awarded for the costumes that best express Tauron traditions.  
> 2 pm Enforcers vs. bosses softball game  
> 3:30 pm Noodle-eating contest
> 
> Music and dancing!  
> Craft vendors all day!  
> 

  
“Enforcers versus bosses?” Laura said aloud. That sounded like a terrible idea. She looked over the list of activities again. Whoever had addressed the flyer to them had also underlined “costumes” twice.

“Absolutely not,” she said, moving to stuff the flyer in the trash.

“Absolutely not what?” came a deep voice from behind her. Strong arms wrapped around her midsection, and Bill started kissing her neck.

“Mmmm.” Laura closed her eyes and let herself lean into him, angling her neck to give him better access. “That’s nice.”

“What are you so adamantly against?” he stopped kissing her long enough to ask.

She fished the yellow flyer out of the trash bag she was still holding. “Bill, what do you know about this?”

“Our Day? Or this flyer?”

Laura considered. “Both.”

He pulled her down to the couch with him. “Well, Our Day celebrates Tauron’s throwing off the shackles of our Virgon and Leonis oppressors.”

“Right,” Laura said. “Which is apparently now celebrated with intra-mob softball and noodle-eating contests?”

“Better than dirt-eating contests.” He grinned sheepishly at the offended look Laura gave him. “Hey, that’s modern life. You of all people know about _The Transmutation of Cultural Identity in Postwar Diaspora_.”

It was true. Laura was nearly finished her dissertation on cultural integration in schools across the Colonies. Cast in that perspective, Little Tauron’s celebration seemed slightly less crass. But only slightly.

“Anyway,” Bill continued, "Tsattie brought over the flyer. She thinks we should enter the twins in the baby parade.”

“And I’ll say it again, then,” Laura said. “Absolutely not.”

“How come?”

“Bill, I will not exploit our children in the name of cultural celebration. We can _go_ to this thing if that’s what you want, expose the kids to some Tauron food and music. But a costumed baby parade seems...silly.” Her brow knit as she struggled to express her concerns. “Maybe even a little creepy.”

“It’s entertaining. And photogenic,” he said, then narrowed his eyes as he guessed the real reason for her recalcitrance. “You just don’t want to make them costumes!”

Laura leaned against him. “You know I’m hopeless at that kind of thing. That Viper apron you like so much might have been my only successful sewing project, ever,” she admitted. “And the thought of coming up with a theme and everything is overwhelming right now. I’m so close to finishing my dissertation, looking for a job is so time-consuming--”

"I know, sweetheart." He pulled her legs into his lap and began massaging her bare feet, eliciting a deep moan. "But my grandmother already came up with a pretty good concept. And she and I can take care of making the costumes."

"You?!" She laughed. "Making an outfit is a lot more involved than sewing on a button to your uniform." Lords knew he'd had enough practice with that, thanks to her.

He looked at her with those deep blue eyes, and she was gone. "Okay," she relented. "When were you planning on telling me about this, anyway?"

"Honestly?" He smirked. "I was thinking maybe once the costumes were done. They're gonna be so cute, you wouldn't be able to say no."

* * *

She had to admit that Bill was right: her children looked good enough to eat, dressed in their Our Day outfits. She would have been powerless to resist their charm.

Sephie stood up, wobbly in the bucket that was doubling as a muffin tin, set on top of a red wagon wrapped in tinfoil. “Ba ba ba!” she cried happily, banging her fist against the rim.

Phin looked less than pleased in his adjoining bucket. “Duh,” he called to Bill.

He pouted beneath his puffy popover hat and threatened to tear it off, and Laura held her breath. “Smile, buddy,” Bill coaxed as he looked through the viewfinder of a camera. Phin sucked in a deep breath, and his lower lip quavered.

“Bill, take the frakking photo. He’s about to go supernova!” Laura whispered.

“Over here, muffin. Smile for Daddy,” Bill said, giving up on his son for the moment. Bill’s pet name for his daughter had never been so fitting; if Laura were going to compare her children to food, she would have thought first of their Aerilon melon-like heads, but at the moment, they were all muffin. Sephie grinned, showing off her several teeth, and Bill snapped a shot. A moment later, Phin’s hat flew out of the wagon and he burst into tears.

“No, Phineus!” Laura picked it up and pulled it resolutely over his dark hair, puffing it back up where it had flattened in its impact with the floor. “No one will know that you’re a Tauron cherry cake without your hat, honey.” She looked at his brown- and pink-swirled sunsuit approvingly, even as he cried, and turned to Bill. “I really have to hand it to you. These costumes are great.”

“Told you I could sew,” Bill said, straightening out Sephie in her bucket as she had apparently gotten her legs tangled up. She was bouncing around so much, Laura feared she might manage to somehow launch herself out of the wagon entirely. At a year old, the girl already had the well-muscled legs of a pyramid player.

“I think we’re ready,” Laura said, shouldering the diaper bag and grabbing her sunglasses from a small table next to the front door. “As long as we don’t lose our souffled toppings on the way there, we’re good to go.”

“Yes, sir.” Bill saluted and followed Laura out the door, pulling the wagon behind him.

They heard the festival before they saw it, a thumping dance beat blaring from speakers with a heavy bass completely inappropriate for mid-morning. “We should have brought ear protection for them!” Laura called from her station behind the wagon.

“Ah, they’ll be fine.” Bill waved for her to come up and join him. “Where do we need to go for this parade, exactly?” she asked.

“Into the park. There should be signs and stuff once we get closer.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, letting his hand linger on the bare skin of her lower back, exposed by her apron-style halter top, and let his fingers roam over where he knew her tattoo of the Gemenon twins was. “I just have to tell you before we’re in a big crowd of people...you look absolutely gorgeous.”

She beamed beneath her large sunglasses. “Thank you, honey. You’re looking quite appealing, yourself. Very Tauron,” she added with an approving nod to his tattooed arms. Her heart clenched at the thought of all the tattoos that weren’t exposed, that only she could see. The ones that marked him as hers.

“I think we need to go this way,” Laura said as they came to a wide shaded path into the park. Phin looked in danger of falling asleep, with his little melon-head nodding down towards his chin, while Sephie was still bouncing away in her bucket. She was starting to see other baby parade participants going in that direction, most in wagons similar to theirs but some in more elaborately constructed floats.

“Ma ma ma,” chanted Sephie as they made their way to the staging area.

“Why does it always have to be ‘Ma’?” asked Bill, looking back at Sephie resentfully. “Why never ‘dad’?”

Laura hummed. “Guess she just likes me better,” she suggested with a toss of her hair. “Right, baby?”

“Da da.” Sephie changed her tune. “Da da.”

Bill stopped walking and handed the wagon handle to Laura before scooping Sephie out of her bucket. “Very good, muffin! I knew you wouldn’t let your mother get away with that.” He kissed her chubby cheeks, and she squirmed against him. “Da.”

“Bill--” Laura warned.

Sephie threw her head back and squealed.

“I know you’re excited, Bill, but you just got her all riled up,” Laura said, picking up the popover hat that had fallen off and tugging it back over Sephie’s head. “Let’s go get them signed in, and we can go over our vocabulary later.”

Bill carried Sephie the rest of the way while Laura pulled Phin, who had indeed fallen asleep, in the wagon. Within twenty minutes they were signed in as “Persephone and Phineus Adama, Tauron Cherry Cake” and queued up in a line of a couple dozen participants.

It looked like they were about to start. Laura picked up Phin gently and tickled his cheek. “Come on, baby. You have to wake up so you can smile and be the cutest cherry cake ever,” she whispered to him. He yawned, stretched, and promptly started to cry.

Looking over at them, Bill laughed. “Don’t worry, Laura. He’ll get it together when it counts. Right, buddy?”

Shrugging, she returned a now-awake Phin to his bucket and arranged his hat and outfit one last time. “Here we go, kids.”

“Go! Go!” Sephie echoed. Bill placed her alongside her brother and they began to move.

The parade route was short, but traversed at painstakingly slow speed as several of the fancier floats experienced mechanical issues. They made their way from the east end of the park toward the center, where the festivities were largely taking place, and through the crowds that had gathered. When Bill noticed a table of three distinguished-looking people taking in the parade from a table draped in Tauron’s colors, watching each float and making notations on paper in front of them, he nudged Laura.

“There are the judges. We’ve gotta get the kids to smile at them.”

“Oh!” Laura needed no further direction, but turned around and started making faces at her children, blowing them raspberries. It worked; Sephie grinned first, always the easier to please of the two, and Phin followed suit, his green eyes lighting up beneath his muffin-top hat. Their heads leaned toward one another's, cherry cakes in danger of deflating but adorable all the same as Sephie grabbed Phin's hand.

“Very good,” Laura encouraged them. “Just a little bit more...big smiles, that's it...” As soon as they were clear of the judges’ table, she breathed a sigh of relief and flagged slightly against Bill.

“Thought you thought baby parades were creepy,” he teased her. “You seem pretty invested now.”

“Now that I’m here...” She shrugged. “Of course I want them to win.”

“They will,” Bill said confidently. “Their costumes look great. And there are two of them. That’s twice as much cuteness as any of the other floats.”

* * *

Bill and Laura sat beneath a tree, taking turns feeding the kids their bottles and each other some Tauron beef stew. The kids’ muffin hats had been swapped out for laurel wreaths when they’d been named the victors of the baby parade. Phin’s was threatening to slide over his left eye; Laura reached out and straightened it.

“Pank oo,” Phin said.

Laura looked at him disbelievingly. “Say that again, Phineus?”

“Pank...oo,” he tried again, more tentatively.

Bill looked up from feeding Sephie. “Did he just--”

Laura nodded.

“Oh gods,” Bill said. “We’ve raised the most polite one-year-old on the planet.”

“Figures that the quiet one would say a real sentence when he finally talked for the first time,” Laura mused.

“I think she’s finished,” Bill said. “Want to pack up and make our way home?”

“Sure,” Laura replied. “Phin, what do you think? Ready to go?”

“‘eady,” Phin said.

“Go, go!” Sephie added.

“All right, then.” Laura sat with the kids while Bill packed up their bottles and trash. “Don’t forget their hats, honey,” Laura said.

“As if I could. They took Tsattie forever to make,” he said, picking them up and placing them in the wagon.

“And she told me back when we were still dating that making Tauron cherry cake wasn’t really so difficult,” she said, lifting up Sephie and settling her back in her bucket. Bill did the same for Phin, and they set off into the crowd.

They were skirting the edge of the dance floor, the twins nodding their heads jerkily in response to hearing the music, when a shrill voice called out. “ _Bill Adama?_ ”

Bill and Laura both turned toward the voice. A thin blonde materialized out of the crowd, stepping toward them.

“Oh my gods,” the woman said, laughing into her ambrosia cocktail, clearly not her first. “You breeded.”

“Hello, Carolanne,” Bill said, standing stiffly. Laura reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Uh...this is my wife, Laura.”

“What a pleasure,” the woman said to Laura. “And who are these little...muffins?”

“Phineus and Sephie. They’re a year old,” he said, anticipating her question. He’d taken the kids to the park plenty of times; he knew the drill.

“Wow,” said the blonde.

“What are you doing here?” Bill asked. “Didn’t know you were into Tauron culture.” The woman was obviously Caprican, her coloring as far from Tauron as one could get.

She glanced over her shoulder and waved toward a burly, tattooed man with greasy dark hair. “Let’s just say I got a taste for Tauron...noodles....while dating you, Bill.”

Laura turned to him, eyebrow arched.

“Long time ago,” Bill said coolly.

“Once you go Tauron, you never go back,” she shrugged. “Right, Laura?”

“Sure.” Laura was beginning to look amused. “We’ve really got to get these two home. Enjoy the festival.”

“Nice running into you, Bill,” Carolanne said with a wave. “And Laura.” The blonde looked her over appraisingly for the first time, taking in the delicate vine tattoos decorating the space beneath her collarbones before letting her gaze drop lower. At Laura’s uncomfortable crossing of her arms over her chest, the blonde shifted her eyes shifted over to the oblivious toddlers, who appeared engaged in a nonsense conversation of some sort. “Never would have taken you for the type, Bill.”

“Take care, Carolanne,” he said, wrapping an arm around Laura’s shoulders and pulling the wagon behind them.

“That was weird, Bill,” Laura whispered once they were out of earshot. “How long ago did you date her?”

Bill thought. “Right after the war ended. So, almost ten years ago, I guess.”

“Was it serious?”

He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Never.”

* * *

The twins, exhausted after their outing, had fallen asleep on the way home and didn’t wake when Bill and Laura got them into their crib. There were two, and Bill and Laura had been trying to encourage them to sleep independently, but there was a better chance they’d nap longer and entertain themselves once they did wake up if they napped together. Bill grabbed the monitor and tugged Laura into their bedroom.

She started giggling softly as he untied her halter and tossed it to the ground. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I can’t believe they won.” She slid off her skirt and lay back on the bed, smiling contentedly.

“You’re too modest.” Having stripped off his own clothes, he lowered himself next to her and leaned down to give her a kiss. “You make beautiful babies, Laura.”

She pulled him closer. “Same goes for you, Bill.”  



	6. Tauron Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Laura indulge in some much-needed intimacy.

Bill quietly crept into their bedroom, grinning. Laura looked up from her book.

“They’re finally asleep,” he said, paternally proud in having accomplished the impossible.

“Thank the gods.” It had been a long, napless day, and the twins had fussed all through dinner and bathtime. Bill had picked up on her exhaustion, volunteering to rock them both to sleep so that she could take a bath and read.

She marked her page and set the book down on the nightstand, turning on her side to face to Bill as he lowered himself onto the bed.

“Feeling more relaxed?” He didn’t wait for her answer as he kissed his way from her stomach up to her breasts, laving his way around their heavy fullness, up to her neck and finally her lips once more. She could feel his hard length against her leg, insistent yet tentative as he held himself up to avoid crushing her.

“Bill, it’s fine,” she murmured, pulling at his hips so he was centered over her. She took him in hand and rubbed his cock against her folds a few times, giving off some moisture to work him with her hand. “Oh gods, yes.” She drew her nails down his back and arched up into him as his fingers found the warm, slick flesh between her legs and stroked her with a practiced touch, one she never took for granted. He could push her buttons as if she were his Viper cockpit control panel. Her lips sought the inked skin behind his ear and he shuddered at feeling her hot breath.

“I wanna...hmm,” he said inarticulately, leaving his fingers pressed against her heated skin while he shifted himself down the bed so he could seek her clit with his tongue. He pushed her legs open wider and took his time, tasting her as she writhed beneath him. One finger and then a second teased her opening, just barely breaching her, making her moan.

“Shhh,” he warned against her flesh, not lifting his head or moving his fingers from their station. He circled her clit several times, then swept his tongue back and forth over it. Laura gasped -- quietly -- and threaded her fingers through his hair, her hips urging him on.

“Bill, I need you,” she whispered. “Come up here.”

He was only too happy to comply, trailing his lips back up and over her body as he straddled her.

“No,” she said, pushing lightly at his chest. “On your back.”

He rolled over to his side of the bed, pleased; while he was generally game for any sexual position, having Laura on top was a hell of a lot easier on his bad knee.

She bent down and took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the head first before sliding her lips down his shaft. She wrapped her hand around him for added pressure, then cupped his balls and sucked hard, alternating with long pumps. He was hard, so incredibly hard, his balls tightening too soon. “Frak me,” he sighed.

Laura giggled and lifted her head to look at him. “That better be where this is going, hmm?”

“Now,” he said, more plaintive than commanding.

She sat up and brought her legs on either side of his hips, rubbing her wet pussy against his hard length. “Frak, yeah,” he exhaled as she centered herself over him and sank down.

“Gods, Bill, you feel so damn good,” she said, leaning back and moving against him slowly. He reached down and sought her clit with his fingers, brushing his fingertips against the hard nub. That fired up her thrusters, quickening her pace.

“More,” she demanded, intent on her mission. He pushed her hips up into her, filling her, and she leaned back down against his chest so she could kiss him as she ground herself against his hand, still caught between their bodies.

He drew her lower lip between his teeth and nipped, causing her to withdraw and seek retribution against his earlobe, neck and chest. He pumped his hips harder, in counterpoint to her own movements, and reached for her breasts, filling his hands with them and pinching her swollen nipples.

“Careful,” she panted in warning. “Don’t want to end up--”

“Ahhh!”

“--Milky,” she finished, bucking against him a few more times before following him beyond the red line. She let him suckle briefly, enjoying the additional relief it brought, before collapsing beside him and nestling against his side. “Oh gods.”

Bill drifted off into a light slumber beside her. His warmth negated any need to pull blankets up over them, and Laura felt at peace, sated and content. In the postcoital quiet, she could hear the gentle breeze outside their window competing with Bill's soft snoring. Eventually came the soft babbling of the twins in the next room as they awoke from their nap. Laura smiled. They seemed to talk so much more to each other than when she or Bill was around; it made her wonder what they were saying to one another.

The babbling stopped for a moment, and Laura thought maybe they’d fallen back asleep -- unrealistic, perhaps-- when Phin’s distinctive wail pierced through the calm.

Bill sat up, suddenly alert as he must have been as a young pilot always on call, and pulled on his shorts. Turning to her and finding her awake, green eyes wide open, he bent down and brushed her hair back from her face, whispering, “I’ll go get them.”


	7. Tauron Scorpion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Laura enjoy some "adult time" on a vacation to Scorpia.

“Are you ready, Bill?” Laura called from the living room, where she’d been reviewing the twins’ schedule with Tsattie. “We need to go.”

“‘eady, ‘eady. Wed-dee,” babbled Phin as he grasped fistfuls Laura’s hair. It was one of his favorite words. Laura swatted his hand away gently and tsked at him to stop pulling.

“Have a wonderful time on Scorpia,” Ruth said. “We’ll be just fine here, won’t we, darlings?”

Sephie grinned and curled up into her great-grandmother’s lap. Laura felt herself starting to tear up. “I’m going to miss them so much,” she admitted to Tsattie. “I haven’t been away from them overnight since they were born.” But they were finally weaned, and loved spending time with their Tsattie, who watched them frequently when both Laura and Bill needed to be at the university. With Bill’s first year of school finally behind them with a slate of top grades to lo credit, and Laura having successfully defended her dissertation, the time had seemed fortuitous for a quick getaway.

“Hmm. You and Bill need some time alone,” Tsattie said with a wink. “A strong marriage is good for the children.”

“What’s good for the children?” Bill asked, appearing in the doorway. He looked ready for Scorpia in his tropical-print shirt, tan shorts, and wide-brimmed hat.

“The parents getting laid,” Tsattie said bluntly.

“So say we all,” Bill said, though he shot the only grandmother he’d ever known a disapproving look for saying it out loud. He lifted Phin from Laura’s lap and kissed his son’s dark hair. “You be good for Tsattie, buddy.” He placed Phin in his bouncy seat and held out a hand to help Laura up before taking Sephie from Tsattie and giving her a kiss as well. “Love you, muffin.”

“Mama,” Sephie said, reaching out for Laura. Bill kissed her one last time and patted her chubby belly before handing her over.

“Mama’s gonna miss you so much, sweetie,” Laura whispered fiercely, her voice cracking.

“Mama go bye-bye,” Sephie said, happily waving her little hand. Laura couldn’t help but laugh through her tears at her daughter’s indifference to their impending separation.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bill said to Laura. “It’s just a few days.” He turned to Tsattie. “Thank you. For everything.”

She waved off his gratitude. “It’s nothing.” Tsattie stood up and took Sephie, surprisingly spry for a woman of her advanced years. “Go. Have a good time.” She looked Laura up and down. “Maybe bring back a little souvenir.”

Laura flushed, embarrassed, and Bill wrapped his arm around her waist. “Come on,” he whispered in her ear. “They’ll be fine.”

“I know,” she sniffed. She turned to Tsattie. “Thank you, Ruth. My sisters are just a phone call away whenever you need an extra set of hands to keep these two in line.”

 

* * *

 

Scorpia’s largely tropical climate was a popular vacation destination for travelers from more temperate worlds. Renowned primarily for its all-inclusive themed resorts lining the western coast of the Argentum Bay, Bill and Laura’s destination was a smaller, secluded community nestled between the coast and the rainforest.

“Haven’t been here in years,” Bill said, stepping out of the cab and holding the door open for Laura, “but the air feels exactly like I remember it.”

“Humid as Hades?” Laura asked, wrinkling her nose. “My hair frizzed up the second we stepped off the ship.”

“It’s the wet season. And anyway, you look beautiful. You’re glowing,” he insisted.

Laura hummed doubtfully at his glamorization of her sweaty visage. “Is that a nice way of saying I’m sweaty?”

He knew better than to argue semantics with his wife, and so he just smiled as he took their bags and they made their way up the path to the hotel lounge.

The accommodations they’d selected were small and rustic, tucked away aside a lagoon and accessible only by dirt road, muddy and treacherous from months’ worth of afternoon rains. Lush flowering trees and bushes surrounded the walkway, the abundance of flowers contrasting in Laura’s memory with arid, colorless Tauron.

Though it was only a few hours’ drive south from the sparkling resorts and neon-lit bars of Argentum Bay, it was worlds away in terms of the tone and activities offered. Bill had been there back when he was in the Fleet, waiting on a transfer at the Scorpian Shipyards and spending his shore leave in the pulsating clubs with their foam parties, body shots, and jello wrestling. He’d thought it best to avoid that type of atmosphere in bringing his wife to the planet for their real vacation together since their honeymoon, though Laura had teased him about his sordid past when he’d first suggested Scorpia as a destination.

The young man at the reception desk handed them their room keys. “Yours is the last hut on the left,” he said with a smile. “The bar’s open till three every night, food service ends at eleven-thirty.” He gestured to the open area behind the reception building, dotted with palm-leaf palapas and trees with colorful hammocks strung between.

Bill grasped Laura’s hand with the one that wasn’t pulling a small wheeled suitcase. “Let’s go get settled in,” he said.

Their hut was open and airy, though Laura wondered how wise that was, given the vast amounts of fine-gauge netting canopied over the bed. The hardwood floors were unfinished and rough under her feet when she kicked off her heeled sandals. She hung her purse on a hook in the wall and looked around.

Bill had busied himself getting their suitcases set up on a low bench, leaving both her wheeled one and his military-issue duffel bag closed. “You need anything out of here, honey?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yeah, my flip-flops. And I’d like my toiletries case so I can freshen up before we go back out,” she said. Bill rummaged around her bag briefly and retrieved the requested items, then shut the suitcase again.

“Why’d you close it?” she asked, bending down to take the case from him.

He pushed himself up and looked out the unscreened window. “Because we might end up with some serious creepy-crawlies in our clothes if we leave them open.”

She glanced around the room warily. “What kind? Scorpions?” She figured the planet had gotten its name for a reason.

Bill nodded. “Mostly.”

“Aren’t those--” she tried stay calm and reminded herself that rustic seclusion, as opposed to commercial insulation, came at a cost of close encounters with the local fauna “--dangerous?”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I packed a couple doses of antidote, just in case.”

"That's reassuring.”

“Yeah.” He placed a gentle kiss to her lips and a pat to her bottom. “Go.”

When she returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, Bill was stretched out on the bed, arms folded behind his head. Laura crawled under the mosquito net and curled up next to him.

“This is nice,” she sighed.

“Told you it’d be good to get away on our own,” he said, stroking her hair. “Though I miss the little monsters already.”

“Mmmm. Don’t call them that,” she said half-heartedly. Laura was concerned to think about what havoc the twins might be wreaking on their elderly grandmother, but the lack of squawking and screaming was, for the moment at least, blessedly welcome. The two of them tended to egg each other on, escalating in volume until she or Bill took one of them into another room. She wondered idly how another child might fit into that dynamic.

Slim fingers slipped between the buttons of his shirt and, growing frustrated at the lack of access, unbuttoned several before returning to the expanse of his chest.

“Thought you wanted to go check out the place,” he said slowly, his voice deeper than usual.

She slipped a leg between his and leaned in closer to him so she could answer, her breath hot against his neck. “I’d rather check you out, then go find some food, I think.”

“You hungry?”

“No, not for food, at the moment.”

He grinned, then shifted onto his side next to her in the center of the bed. She unbuttoned the last few buttons that were keeping his shirt covering his chest, and slid the garment down his well-muscled arms. He leaned down for a slow, lingering kiss full of promise and want. Finally Laura breathlessly pushed at his chest, breaking the kiss. “Pants. Please.”

“I thought we’re not in any rush?” Still, he let her unfasten his fly and start to push down his shorts, but winced when he tried to shift his weight to his left leg to get them off. “Frak--”

“Oh, honey! Your knee?” Laura was concerned. “I’m sorry--”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, easing away from her so he could more easily divest himself of his shorts and boxers.

Laura used the opportunity to slip her pale blue sundress over her head, leaving on the pretty matching underwear she’d treated herself to when she found herself in need of a different bra size.

“Beautiful,” he said when he turned back to her, tracing the tattooed vines that crept from the tops of her breasts down her flanks. He rested his hands lightly at her hips, and brushed his thumb over the small cherry tattoo just inside the crease of her hip. She closed her eyes at the sensation of his touch, so close to her center, and whimpered when he drew her closer and buried his face between her breasts.

He pulled her onto his lap and she went willingly, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

“Finally alone,” she whispered in his ear. “No distractions...”

“No baby monitors...no interruptions...” Bill nipped at her earlobe.

Laura ran her fingers through the hair that curled around his ear, lingering at the side of his neck and drawing her thumb across the ink there. She drew back slightly, admiring him.

“What?” Bill looked down at his chest, then lingered on hers before looking up at her face. “Something wrong?”

She smiled serenely and just shook her head, letting her hand trail down his chest to the interlocked rings decorating his hip. Taking stock of their journey together so far. Their tattoos weren’t the most traditional, but they marked the important things, in the way they wanted to. And she was feeling a strong urge to get something new.

“Laura?” He tipped her chin up with his fingertips. “What’re you thinking about?”

Thoughts that had been meandering like the vines across her chest came to a halt, and she blurted out a different, deeper, truth. “Another baby.”

Deep blue eyes widened. “Really?”

“Don’t you?”

“Think about it? Yeah, I do.” He gently shifted her off him and moved back to the head of the bed, tugging on her hand to lean against him as he leaned back against the wicker headboard, “Laura, I was off-world for the majority of your pregnancy and the first six months of the twins’ life. It would mean everything to me to get to go through all of that with you now.”

“I think--” she slid her hand reverently against the inside of his forearm, the canvas for their babies’ names “--that maybe it’s time.” Since she’d stopped breastfeeding she’d been drinking a particular tea that Tsattie picked up for her in Little Tauron, but she’d left it at home for this trip. Mostly, but not entirely, because it wouldn’t pass customs. “I packed some condoms if you disagree--”

“Gods, no.” He cupped her jaw and gave her a long, slow kiss. “Hey. It’s not like we haven’t talked about this before. The twins should have a sibling to torment.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know that, too.”

“We gotta pull the trigger sometime.”

“Might as well be now?” She looked around the room; the air had changed. The cross-breeze picked up, billowing the netting around them. The palms outside the windows were blustering violently in a precursor to the afternoon showerstorms. “Looks like we’ve got a while before it makes sense to go out.”

“Laura?” He wrapped an arm around her and dragged her closer.

She turned around to face him. “Yes, honey?”

“Enough talking.” He lowered his lips to hers once more and reached behind her to unfasten the clasp of her bra. He drew it down her arms slowly, tossed it aside, and placed sweet kisses to her cheekbones, eyelids, and the tip of her nose. She moaned as he lowered his head and wrapped his lips around her right nipple, circling with his tongue, suckling and biting gently, then switched sides while his fingers toyed with the one he’d just left. Laura’s eyes were closed, but her hand was steady as it sought out his hardened length. She gave him a few firm pumps, running her thumb over the drop of pre-cum that had formed at the tip, spreading it around and over the head. He groaned and moved to lay her down on the bed.

She resisted him, rising up on her knees and pushing him back before she straddled him triumphantly. "Nuh-uh. I'm on top," she said, trapping his arms over his head. "No claiming a sex-inflicted knee injury and pulling out of zip-lining tomorrow. I mean it."

"Yes, sir," he grunted as she began to rock back and forth over him. Her panties were damp against him, the lace pleasantly rough. She needed more contact. His next words were muffled against her breasts. "No pulling out, got it."

“Better not, nugget,” she said. Why was she still wearing her damn underwear? She rolled off him for a moment so she could remove it. He waited patiently in the center of the bed, watching her through lust-hooded eyes as she stripped off the last barrier between them. “C’mere.”

Laura cleared her mind of everything but the sensation of Bill filling her as she guided him in. After months of occasional quick fraks between feedings and diaper changes, it was such a luxury just to be present in the moment, heightened senses aware only of his scent (aged paper and wood glue and baby wipes), the humidity-soaked breeze filtering in through the gauzy netting, the corded strength of muscles moving beneath her. Their bodies were in sync, moving gently, deliberately together. Moving with a purpose as they’d never really done before; the twins had been inadvertently conceived during a romp on the kitchen floor. She breathed deeply, committing the sensory moment to memory--this would be what she thought of when she remembered their trip to Scorpia--and oxygenating her bloodstream before bringing her mouth down to his for a ravenous kiss.

She devoured him, slowly and thoroughly, like the praying mantis he'd teasingly pointed out to her in the wildlife section of the guidebook they'd looked at on the flight over. It was the same biological imperative at work, but neither he nor his cock seemed to have any problem with that. He grasped her hips, pushing up into her as far as he could.

“Yeah, like that,” she said, tilting her hips so she could take him even deeper. She nipped at his lower lip, drawing it between her teeth and sucking lightly. She loved the sensual fullness of his lips, hers to explore for as long as she wanted as she languidly moved against him. Her tongue swept between his lips, probing gently before stroking his own tongue as her inner walls clenched around him, slowing down his thrusts, holding him in place, the friendliest battle of resistance and will. They took their time, softly murmuring endearments to one another between kisses.

He had one hand threaded through her hair, pushing it out of her face so he could look in her eyes as he filled her over and over, and the other on her ass, holding her close. “I love seeing you like this,” he said softly.

She didn’t answer, just pushed herself back for a new perspective. A moan escaped at the deeper angle and she began to roll her hips more urgently, but he refused to get on board with the change and stubbornly kept their pace slow and steady.

“We don’t have anywhere to be,” he reminded her. “Maybe we should just enjoy this.”

“I am,” she told him with a clench of her inner muscles. She pressed her hands to his chest and accepted his rhythm, but she frakked him hard, forcefully meeting each slow thrust. Her ears were filled with the sound of his breathing and a blank static sound that she eventually came to realize was not static at all, but the persistent background buzzing of heavy rain against the hut’s thatched roof. A gust of wind tore through the room, lifting Laura up as she bobbed along in the sea of passion, mussing her hair and cooling her sweaty skin.

She clutched at her life raft futilely. “Bill, I’m so close.”

He wasn’t going to make her beg. His eyes met hers and flashed with deepening intensity as a decision was made, and she was ready when he grasped her hips and tossed her overboard so that she was on her back. He re-sheathed himself quickly, braced his hands on either side of her head, and made love to her, any concerns about his knee injury relegated to the back of both parties’ minds as he finally let go of any pretense of restraint. She drew her legs up around his waist, heels urging him on.

“Yes! Yes!” she cried as the rain poured down around them. “Oh gods, Bill.”

“Yeah, let me hear you,” he growled. She giggled at this encouragement; usually he was shushing her or even clapping his hand over her mouth, fearful of waking or traumatizing the babies through their little house’s thin walls. She let go of the inhibition and vocally punctuated each of his steady strokes, commanding his efforts in rowing them both to shore: “Yes...yes...yes...”

“That’s it,” he crooned. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

She finally couldn’t take it anymore, floating away into still, dark waters with an arch of her back and a deep moan of release. She felt him grasp her hips again and pound into her once, twice, a third final time and then spill himself inside her.

He collapsed on top of her and she wrapped her arms around him, wanting him to float with her, neither one of them wanting to break the connection between them. They stayed like that for a few moments, taking their time in coming back to the present. Finally he shifted off of her slightly, taking his weight off her but still draping half his body over hers, keeping her anchored. She turned her head away from him and breathed deeply, realizing the air in the room was suddenly stagnant and the world outside quiet and calm. She squinted through the netting at the window, then turned back to him, nuzzling his ear and speaking softly. “Hey. It stopped raining.”

“Still wanna stay here for a while,” he said, his voice already thick with impending sleep.

She turned against him so he could spoon her and he curled around her accordingly, the nerve endings in her skin still buzzing at the contact. She scanned the floor of the room without bothering to move her head. She thought she might have seen something with a distinctive curved tail scuttle across the floorboards, but dismissed it without concern. She’d be just fine, wrapped up in Bill’s protective embrace in this canopied haven.

 

* * *

 

That first afternoon inspired their schedule for the days that followed. They would wake early, enjoy some excellent coffee and fruit out in the courtyard, then explore the waterfront or the rainforest for the remainder of the morning. Lunch was typically a casual affair in one of the little towns on the way back to the resort, then they’d return to the seclusion of their hut to make love for as long as the afternoon rains lasted. Once things dried out and they awoke, recharged, from a nap, they headed out to the courtyard again to sip cocktails and read the mystery novels they’d brought with them, swaying back and forth in a hammock wide enough for two until the need for food roused them from the pleasant languor of their open-knit cocoon.

Bill remained true to his promise not to bail out of zip-lining, and it had been an exhilarating experience. They saw not only more large bugs (to which Laura had finally become accustomed--the scorpions sharing their hut weren’t at all aggressive as long as one kept a respectful distance), but sloths and monkeys, too. There were some gorgeous flowers that Laura had casually mentioned might make for some nice ink, as she snapped photos of them for future reference, until Bill reminded her that Tauron lacked any flowers of its own and thus a flower tattoo wouldn’t be very traditional.

“Even your vines are pushing things,” he said, tracing a fingertip along the intertwined nascent foliage inked above the neckline of her low-cut blouse.

She smirked. “I think we’ve made it our own tradition at this point.”

“And I love you for it.”

 

* * *

 

Their flight back to Caprica departed at an ungodsly early hour, so they’d arranged to stay in a hotel closer to the commercial spaceport for the final evening of their trip. The city of Argentium predated the flash and fancy of the resort boom by thousands of years. It was also directly beneath the orbit of the Fleet’s largest shipyard, and so gritty industrialism mixed with tourism and history at every turn.

They decided to go out for dinner in the bustling city center, treating themselves to something a little more formal than the roadside stands they’d relied on over the past few days. “Just a little wine for me, please,” Laura had demurred when the waiter brought the bottle around, smiling at Bill. He stretched his leg under the table and rubbed her bare calf with his ankle, and Laura suddenly regretted not just holing themselves up in their hotel and relying on room service to sustain them through these last few hours alone.

Still, dinner was over quickly enough, and some of the urgency faded as they walked hand-in-hand down the busy street teeming with shops and restaurants. “Want some dessert?” he asked her, coming to a stop in front of an ice cream shop.

“Sure.” She looked through the glass-covered cases and finally decided on a hibiscus-flavored sorbet, while Bill went for chocolate chip. They walked just a block or so before stumbling upon an open, green park, and sat down on a bench facing a large, brightly-painted sculpture covered in graffiti tags and peace slogans.

“It’s a Viper,” Laura pointed out to him with a wave of her spoon.

“A Mark I.” Bill rose and inspected it more closely. “The rainbow paint makes it hard to recognize, but the aerodynamics were changed in the Mark II, the cockpit moved further back.”

She tossed her empty ice cream cup into a trash can and walked up behind him. “You miss it?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his midsection.

He turned in her arms and held her close. “Sure,” he admitted. “But not as much as I missed you when I was flying.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to go up to the shipyards while we’re here,” she said. “They have a museum, you know.”

“I’ve been, once,” he said. “Wasn’t overly impressed. It’s run by the Ministry of Education, not Defense.”

“Gods forbid,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Fine. Where to next, Captain?”

He started walking back whence they’d just come, tugging her along behind him, and smiled deviously. “I might have an idea.”

 

* * *

 

“We’re home!” Laura called out into the suspiciously quiet house. “Ruth?”

Tsattie came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a familiar Viper-print apron. Laura and Bill exchanged a grimace. “I was just finishing cleaning up. How was your trip?”

“We had a great time,” Bill said. “Where are the kids?”

Rather than answer, Tsattie led them into the living room, where Sephie and Phin lay asleep on their play mat, surrounded by wooden blocks, cardboard boxes, and picture books. It looked as if they had crashed in the middle of an intense building effort. Their heads were turned toward one another’s and Phin’s arm was draped over Sephie’s.

“How were they for you, Ruth?” Laura asked quietly, crouching down to smooth Sephie’s unruly red curls. Phin yawned, stretched, and went back to sleep when Laura reached over and rubbed his back.

“Perfect angels.” Tsattie’s eyes gleamed with pride. “They know better than to make things difficult for their Tsattie.”

“Huh.” Bill joined Laura on the mat. “You’ll have to explain to them that they ought to show the same respect to their parents.”

“Either that, or tell us your secrets,” Laura added.

Tsattie shook her head.  "An enforcer never shares her methods."  A shrill timer rang out and she went back into the kitchen, leaving the family to their reunion. Sephie’s head had jerked up at the sudden ringing sound, and her eyes opened wide when she saw Laura sitting next to her.

“Hi, baby,” Laura whispered.

Sephie pushed herself up and banged her fist against Phin’s back. “Ma-ma-ma!”

Phin started to cry, but stopped when Bill picked him up and placed him on his lap. Laura stretched out her legs in the space on the mat Phin had been occupying and smiled, happy to be home.

Sephie crawled over Laura’s legs toward Bill, but stopped when something caught her attention. “Ahhh!” she shrieked.

“What is it, muffin? Use your words,” Bill said.

“Ooze werd,” Phin added, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Sephie refused. “Ahhhh,” she wailed again.

“Persephone Jane Roslin-Adama. What in the worlds is the matter with you?” Laura said sternly.

The little girl jabbed her chubby finger accusingly at Laura’s ankle and stopped crying momentarily. “Sca-wee,” she whimpered.

“Oh!” Laura picked up Sephie and hugged her. “Sorry, sweetie. It’s just like Mommy’s other tattoos.” She pointed out markings on her chest and arm and had Sephie touch them, then looked over at Bill, who was smirking. “Don’t even...”

“Told you!” he said gleefully. “Should have gone for the Scorpian flag, like me.” Bill shifted Phin on his lap so he could stretch out his own leg. “Look, Sephie. Dad got one too.”

Sephie scooted down to inspect, and was decidedly untraumatized. “See, muffin? Not scary.”

Phin wriggled off Bill’s lap and joined his sister between their parents’ outstretched legs. He looked at Laura’s new tattoo, then over at Bill’s, then back at Laura’s. “Bug,” he said disdainfully at Laura.

Laura looked helplessly at Bill, then noticed Tsattie laughing silently from the doorway. “Okay, okay, you were right. So I’ll just have to wear pants for a while until they get used to the fact that their mother now has a scorpion on her ankle.”

Bill shrugged. “Hey, you were determined. I’m sure they’ll understand, when they’re, say, six.”

Tsattie walked over and took a look for herself. “Very nice,” she said knowingly. “Come on into the kitchen. We’ll have some cherry cake to celebrate your little Scorpio or Scorpia.”

 


	8. Tauron Testimony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura's professional debut in testifying before the Quorum doesn't go as well as she'd hoped.

“Bill, do you think this looks okay?” Laura buttoned her jacket and fluffed her hair nervously, then stood up from the vanity and turned to face him.

He shifted Phineus from his right hip to the left and looked Laura up and down. “You look great, honey. Very professional.” He reached down and plucked a piece of lint off the navy skirt she wore, letting his fingers linger longer than necessary. “The Quorum’s gonna love you.”

Laura worried her bottom lip. “I don’t know if maybe I should be wearing a collared shirt.” She looked down at the white wrap top she wore under her suit jacket. She wore the shirt frequently, finding it among the easiest tops to move out of the way when she needed to quickly express breast milk for Cyrus behind the closed door of her office. Laura was actually fairly certain that none of her button-downs even fit across her chest anymore without straining and gapping. If she was going to go that route, she’d have to borrow one of Bill’s.

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror critically. Her vine tattoos were visible, though not exactly on display. Her colleagues in the Ministry of Education hardly noticed her ink anymore. But going before the Quorum was another matter. There would be video clips and news coverage...

Bill shook his head and leaned in close behind her, bringing his lips to the side of her neck so as not to muss her makeup. “You know this shirt’s my favorite, right?”

Laura’s hum turned to a gasp when he bit down lightly. “You might have told me once or twice.” She gasped again, this time in pain rather than pleasure; Phin had gotten bored and decided a sharp tug to a fistful of hair might garner him her attention. “Ouch! No, Phinny!”

“Okay, buddy. Time-out for you,” Bill decided, and practically tossed Phin onto their bed. Phineus, totally unrepentant, bounced happily without giving his parents a second look. Bill tugged Laura closer, no small child taking up space between them.

“You can do this,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“We’re expecting it to be pretty hostile. The staff’s been telling me horror stories.”

He shook his head. “I believe in you. They will too.”

A cry from the corner of the room interrupted what Laura was certain would have been a very sweet pep talk. “I have to go, Bill.” She looked apologetic as she gathered up her notes and stuffed them in a chestnut leather briefcase. “I put a couple of bottles for Cy in the fridge, it sounds like he could use one once you get him up from his nap--”

“I got it,” Bill reassured her. “This is just a normal day for us, remember?”

Sephie toddled into the increasingly crowded bedroom, her red curls flattened from her nap and her eyes still clouded from sleep. “Mama go khorm?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Laura answered, crouching down to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “Be a good girl for daddy.”

“I go Tsattie?” she inquired with a tilt of her head.

Bill cleared his throat, then picked up Sephie and placed her on the bed next to Phin. “We’re gonna hang out here, muffin.” He went to the cradle in the corner and picked up Cy.

“I tink I go Tsattie.” Sephie grabbed Phin’s hand for leverage to begin bouncing up and down. “Mama khorm. Ma-ma khor-um.”

Laura picked up her briefcase and placed hurried kisses to both Cyrus’s forehead and Bill’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I owe you one.”

He grinned deviously. “Maybe I just like having you at my mercy.”

“Hmm.” Laura’s grin told him that she wasn’t entirely adverse to it, either. “Be good, kiddos. I love you.”

“Lub you Mama,” Phin called.

“Love you too, my darling big boy and my sweet girl.”

 

* * *

 

The Quorum was as full as pomp and ceremony as she’d expected. What she hadn’t anticipated was that its members bickered worse than her children when there was only one cookie left in the jar and they’d skipped their nap.

 _They must sanitize this for the broadcasts,_ she realized. It was a clubby, vaunted atmosphere, reminiscent of the elite prep schools and universities each of the legislators had probably attended with their humble-bragging mockery of one another and apparent disdain for the process they were supposed to be overseeing. The Quorum finally gave the Secretary of Education the courtesy of allowing him to finish his introductions. With the Secretary’s final introduction-- “Dr. Laura Roslin-Adama, former Caprica City Teacher of the Year and currently serving a one-year term as Director of Cultural Programs in the Ministry of Education” --Laura was up.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Quorum,” she began, her voice strong and clear. “As the Director of Cultural Programs for public schools across the Colonies, I am here today to testify as to the effect those programs are having. There are some marked successes, but so much more could be done with stronger protective legislation and more robust funding.”

“And why isn’t this something that can be dealt with on a school-to-school or district-to-district basis?” asked the delegate from Leonis with a sneer.

“What we need is a large-scale campaign in place to change attitudes and break preconceptions on a systemic level,” she answered. “Each of the twelve Colonies and the local governments within agreed, by signing the Articles of Colonization, to submit to a strong federal authority. Over the past twenty years people and families have become more mobile; twenty-five percent of the population of the colonies lives on a planet other than the one on which they were born. Yet old prejudices remain, and are interfering with our students’ education. It is incumbent upon the Ministry of Education to take a strong hand in cultural integration so that when these students go off into the workplace, whether on the planet where they were raised or to a pursue opportunities better suited to their interests on a different world, they aren’t judged by the planet they come from, but by the person that they are.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I have outlined a five-point plan, it’s on the first page of your materials--”

“Exchange programs? Mandatory language training?” broke in the Picon delegate. “You want the federal government to bankroll high school students’ vacations?”

“I’m suggesting a reallocation of funds. One-tenth of the schools’ athletic budgets could cover exchange trips for each graduating class--”

The Sagittaron delegate snorted. “Oh, so an unfunded mandate then?”

 _Focus, Laura,_ she reminded herself, sitting up straighter in her chair. “As you’ll see, the first point of the plan is a cultural awareness program that has already been implemented successfully in primary schools across Caprica. It can be taught by the schools’ regular teachers and merely supplements the social studies curriculum.”

“Look, Mrs. Adama,” interrupted the Picon delegate. “I can see from your tattoos that you’ve got an agenda that might be personal. The fact remains that there are parents that don’t want their kids exposed to that kind of thing.”

Laura felt her temper flare. “It’s _Doctor_ Roslin-Adama, Delegate Chalmers.” She pushed her shoulders back, putting her tattoos on display for the entire chamber. Hundreds of eyes were focused on the top of her chest; she let them look. “And you have just illustrated the problem. Children are impressionable. We’ve found a fifty percent decrease in bullying, especially planetary origin-based bullying, in the schools that have implemented the program. Preliminary results are showing that as those students get older, there are fewer conflicts requiring mediation and fewer instances of physical violence.”

“I don’t need the Colonies’ children to be sedated pacifists,” Chalmers said. “Picon is the Fleet headquarters, the Admiralty thinks there should be a greater emphasis on physical education, navigation calculation, and military cadet programs. The children only have so many hours in a school day.”

“I understand that,” Laura ground out, wanting to tell him about her own experiences with the Fleet. “The business of educating children, however, is that of the Ministry of Education, not the Admiralty. And as you’ll see in your materials, each proposal is supported by empirical evidence--”

A few Quorum members flipped through their bound proposals with interest, but before she could continue, Chalmers broke in again. “ _Doctor_ Roslin-Adama,” he said smoothly, “this has been a complete waste of our time. The Delegate moves to proceed to the next item.”

Laura looked down the dais toward her boss for direction. Secretary Jack Lostau just shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands in a sign of frustration and powerlessness.

“Motion denied,” said a deep voice from the back of the chamber. “We’ve got unfinished business to cover.”

 _Oh gods. Bill!_ Laura could see Colonial security officers hurrying up the aisle behind Bill, looking all too eager for a takedown. One officer's fingers twitched anxiously at the nightstick hanging from his belt.

"You got a problem with Taurons?" Bill asked rhetorically as he approached Chalmers. "Or just anyone who associates with 'em?"

"Excuse me," sputtered the delegate. "Who is this man? Get him out of here. Security!"

"That is my husband," Laura admitted, trying hard not to let the inappropriate giggles burst through her calm facade.

"Captain Bill Adama," Bill supplied, snapping off an ironic salute. "Retired. Sedate pacifist student, now." He smiled at Laura, then glanced behind him and gathered that only a few moments of freedom remained for him to wrap things up. He leaned down close to the red-faced delegate, his bulking shadow cast over the paunchy man under the bright Quorum lights. "And if you ever insult my wife, or Tauron, or tattoos, or _any frakking person, ever again_ , I will make you pray to mother Hera above that _you'd_ had the benefit of the cultural sensitivity training that you're going to vote to include in this year's budget."

He dodged the lunging grasp of a dark-clothed security officer and danced behind the dais. "Honey?" he called in an apologetic whisper. "I'll see you at home, hopefully." And he bolted for the rear entrance off the side of the stage.

"Oh gods," Laura said, her head spinning at how quickly things were unfolding. She had to get out of here, find her lunatic husband...

“Order, order,” the Speaker of the Quorum shouted over the din of the crowd. She tapped her mic, then shouted again. “The floor will come to order!”

An unpleasant blast of feedback reverberated throughout the chamber, causing people to groan and cover their ears. It at least had the effect that the bewildered Speaker had been going for, silencing the crowd.

"I think that concludes my testimony," Laura said brightly into her mic.

"Quorum adjourned," added the Speaker, a kindly-looking woman from Aerilon with a thick accent. "That's quite enough for today."

"Quite enough?" cried Chalmers, mocking her accent. "I have been assaulted! Arrest that man, that...Adama." He shuddered.

"Frak you, Chalmers," the Speaker replied dismissively. "Dr. Roslin-Adama, thank you for your time today. I apologize for the brutish behavior of my colleague here."

"Likewise, I'm sure," called Laura over her shoulder as she fled the scene trying to figure out where to go to find Bill. Her boss gave her a sympathetic, if urgent, wave.

She pushed through throngs of reporters toward the exit. She'd head for the car, she decided. If she didn't see him by the time she got there, she'd try the maglev station and then head either home or to Tsattie's. They only had the one car, so he must have taken the lev-- using his student discount pass, as he so often liked to lord over her whenever they needed a fare--

A hand clapped down on her shoulder as she walked lost in thought, and she nearly screamed, but cried out in relief when she realized it was him.

"Oh my gods, Bill. What the frak were you thinking?" she hissed, even as her arm snaked around him and she pulled him close. "You should have gotten arrested for that stunt."

"Still could, I guess," he said lightly. "Where's the car?"

“This way,” she sighed, looking behind them. It didn’t seem that they were being followed. Still her adrenaline surged, a nervous energy bubbling between them.

Finally they reached the government employee garage where Laura parked each day. She tossed him the keys; she didn’t trust herself to drive right now, whereas Bill seemed almost preternaturally calm.

Easing down into the seat, she tossed her purse to the floorboards and took a deep breath. Just as she finished exhaling, a door slammed and his mouth was on hers.

 _Unexpected._ His warmth was enveloping her, from the heat of his lips and tongue seeking hers, his wandering hands, his own heated limbs as she ran her hands over his chest, neck, legs. His lips moved against hers hungrily; she returned his kisses, preferring them for now to the words they’d have to exchange later. She pushed the thought aside as he pushed up her skirt.

A whimper escaped her lips as he stroked her through her panties and she shifted uncomfortably on the seat, trying to give him better access. Even as she let him feel her up and touch her intimately, the angrier part of her mind that was still processing what had just happened in the Quorum whispered that she should kick him out and let him find his own way home. Torn between ordering him out, straddling him in the driver’s seat, or tugging him into the backseat with her, she just stayed where she was and squeezed her thighs around his hand while she reached over to massage the bulge in his jeans.

He buried his face between her breasts, taking his time kissing the rambling cherry blossom vines intertwined across her chest. Laura’s head fell back against the headrest and her eyes nearly closed in pleasure as his fingers pushed past the damp fabric barrier of her panties inside of her, one finger and then two stroking her from deep within while his thumb circled her clit. His other hand tugged her shirt down and unsnapped her bra cups so that he could tease and suckle her nipples in alternating turns.

“You’re crazy,” she hissed at him as she writhed in her seat. He suckled harder and bit down, then soothed her flesh with gentle laving of his tongue before moving his mouth back up to her chest to the side of her neck, biting hard again, leaving his mark. She continued to let him work out his possessive aggression; she was so close, this was so good, she was so angry--

She unfastened his the button at his waistband with one hand and slipped her hand down his boxers, seeking and finding the hot flesh that was throbbing with excitement and desire. With a twist of her wrist, he grew even more, and began to work his own hand against her flesh more furiously in an emulation, no doubt, of what he wanted her to do to him. More, they both needed more...she felt a few drops of moisture at the end of his dick and started to think about straddling him again. Just a few thrusts would probably do it...she ground herself harder against his fingers.

The sound of a car starting caught Laura’s attention, followed by the brief flash of red taillights behind them illuminating the dark garage. Her hooded eyes flew open, and her entire body seized up, halting the crescendo Bill had been building her up to at once until only a low resonant thrumming remained.

Sensing the change, he pulled his face back from her breasts to look at her. "What?"

“This is insane. I don't know why you're so keyed up, but it's not some post-mission bacchanalia, Bill. Just take me home, please.” She removed her hand from his pants and gestured toward the exit.

Bill groaned in disappointment and reluctantly withdrew his own hand. She tucked her breasts back into her bra and shot him a warning look reminding him that a few kisses and a hurried finger-frak wouldn’t absolve him of his misdeeds.

"Tsattie's there with the kids," he said as he turned the keys in the ignition.

"Good. She can take the twins to the park while the baby naps." _So they could fight or frak it out._ She turned her gaze from out the window to him. "I'm so mad at you, but my gods, I do love you for telling that motherfrakker off."

"Just for that?"

She adjusted the panels of her shirt to a more modest appearance than the one Bill had just given her. "Stop fishing. You’re in hot water, mister.” She sighed. “Really, Bill? What happened between ' _I believe in you_ ,' and you rushing the Quorum like my personal goon squad? You thought I couldn't handle things myself?"

"Of course not," he said. His voice was calm and measured, the one he used with the kids when they were on the verge of a major meltdown. "I went because I wanted to see you testify about your work, and I didn't tell you because I didn't know whether I'd be able to get someone to watch the kids."

“You completely undermined me. Chalmers was making himself look bad, then your little display just reaffirmed every negative Tauron stereotype he was insinuating.”

“You’ve never minded my Tauron characteristics before,” he said. He absently rubbed the inside of his forearm where the names of their three children resided in perpetuity.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,” she said, annoyed at how little credit he was giving her. She'd married him with an exchange of tattoos instead of in a temple, after all. "What you did was completely inappropriate. You made me look unprofessional, and you embarrassed me in front of my colleagues."

"Yes," he admitted without hesitation. "But don't you think the Quorum's going to remember your agenda now?"

"Hmmm." She felt her frown melt away and the tension recede as she considered the Quorum's collective progression from boredom and indifference to horror and even amusement as her testimony had unfolded. "I forgive you, Bill."

He grinned as he pulled up to the curb in front of their small wood-sided house. "Thank you, Laura."

When they stepped through the front door of the house, they found Bill's grandmother on the couch, the baby content on her lap and the two toddlers on either side of her. Their eyes, even Cyrus's, were transfixed on the screen in front of them.

"Hello," Laura called to get their attention. "Did Tsattie let you watch a movie?"

Ruth just smirked as Sephie exclaimed, "Mama Dada on da vid!"

Laura dropped her briefcase to the floor and hurried across the room so she could see for herself. "Oh my gods."

“Oh, _gods_ ,” repeated Phin.

“You’d make a good body man, Bill,” Tsattie told him approvingly. “Good presence. Just threatening enough to maintain credibility without crossing the line into assault.”

“Don’t encourage him, Ruth,” Laura said.

Bill’s face held traces of humor. “It just happened twenty minutes ago,” he said. “It’s already on the news?”

“The alert came in while we were watching my stories,” Tsattie admitted. She had a weakness for Tauron soap operas, and Phin and Sephie liked watching with her even though they couldn’t follow the convoluted storylines.

Laura cringed as she watched Bill lean over Chalmers on the screen. The whole ridiculous scene was over in less than a minute, but the commentary kept looping it over and over. Finally she went to the vid set and turned it off.

Sephie protested. “I watch dat! Mama and Dada at khorum!”

“Enough,” Laura said firmly. She leaned down and picked a sleepy Cyrus up from Tsattie’s lap and placed him in the pack-and-play in the corner of the living room. He yawned and stretched, then curled up in sleep.

Phin slid off the couch and came over to Laura. He hugged her leg, then looked up with his big green eyes. “Read me story, mama?”

“In a little while, Phinny.” Laura suddenly felt exhausted. “Ruth, are you up for taking them down the street to the park?”

Tsattie bristled slightly. “Of course I am.” She looked from Laura to Bill and back again, and muttered, “We’ll take our time.”

“Thank you,” Bill said to his grandmother. He sat down on the couch and pulled Sephie onto his lap to help put on her sneakers and secure the velcro straps to keep them in place.

“You need all the help you can get, Willie,” she said, patting his knee. “Your heart was in the right place. But _stupid._ ”

Laura had gone into the twins’ room and come back with their jackets. She helped Phin with his first and then Sephie, who leaped off of Bill, beaming. “Good job khorm, mama!”

“Aw, that’s a nice thing to say, Sephie.” Laura glared at Bill over Sephie’s head; using their daughter as a mouthpiece wouldn’t help his cause.

Ruth stood up and began ushering the twins toward the door. “Come along,” she ordered with a snap of her fingers. “Phineus, you can bring your ball if you’d like.”

“Okay!”

The three of them left and Laura looked out the window to watch them cross the street, hand in hand, Phin proudly carrying his miniature replica Picon Panthers pyramid ball.

Bill stood behind her, his hands wrapping around her waist. “I’m sorry,” he breathed in her ear.

She leaned against him and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders to expose her neck to him as he nuzzled her. “I know.”

His fingers toyed with the button of her blazer, swept upwards to her breasts. “Let me show you how much?”

She hummed and shifted against him. “I believe you owe me.”


	9. Farewell Freeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura takes the kids out to play in the snow.

Laura rooted through the cardboard box, hoping to find a hat and mittens for each of the kids. While she found piles of silk and wool scarves that belonged to her, some of which she’d forgotten about (why didn’t she wear the scarf with the butterflies more often? it was so pretty), child-sized accessories were nowhere to be found. “Bill,” she finally called, though she’d hoped not to disturb him. “Can you give me a hand?”

“Wanna go outside!” shrieked Sephie, pulling at the rainbow suspenders holding up the three layers of pants she wore. She stomped up and down, amusing herself at the sound her rubber boots made against the worn pine floors.

“Be a good girl and go sit with Phin,” Laura instructed her daughter. “You can look out the window until it’s time to go out.” Phineus was doing just that, mesmerized by the thickly falling snow as he sat patiently in his beanbag chair wearing as many pants as Sephie, as well as two sweatshirts and an unzipped drab-olive jacket.

Sephie disregarded Laura’s suggestion, bending down instead to place a sloppy kiss on the forehead of the newest addition to the family, who lay on a blanket next to Laura. “Tickle, tickle,” she said, devious as her fingers waggled closer and closer to the infant’s sides. Cyrus squirmed away, as if aware that he was completely at her mercy.

“Muffin, you leave Cy alone,” Bill said, finally entering the living room. He had a pencil tucked behind his ear and his fingers were marked with highlighter and stray pen marks commensurate with his end-of-the-semester paper-writing push.

Sephie turned away from the baby, who began to cry once no one was paying attention to him, and held her arms up to Bill. He swung her up onto his hip in the practiced motion of a man who made that movement easily a dozen times a day.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, honey,” Laura said over Cyrus’s indignant wailing. She rose up from her crouched position in front of the box she’d been searching and stood in front of him before looking around at the rest of the cardboard boxes ringing the room, stacked three and four boxes tall in some places. “Do you have any idea where the kids’ cold-weather stuff is? I never thought it would get like this between the time I packed up and when we actually moved.”

Bill frowned in thought, then crossed the room to set Sephie in the green beanbag chair next to Phin’s orange one. Most of the living-room furniture had already been packed into the container that would transport their things to their new home, but the small beanbags remained, along with a folding table and chairs. “Look at all the snowflakes, Sephie. Did you know every snowflake is different?”

“Wanna play,” Sephie said, looking out the window.

Phin nodded solemnly in agreement. “Outside,” he added.

“I’m surprised they even have mittens,” Bill said, scanning the room for a promising box. He pulled out one labeled “Twins - Clothes” and started to look through it. “This must be the first real snowfall since they were born.”

Laura hummed and stood over him, rubbing his tense shoulder and neck muscles while he rifled through the box’s contents. One by one he pulled out four mittens, of which only two were a matching pair, and a couple of knit hats that were a bit thin for snow wear but would do the trick for a short trip outside.

“Well done, sir,” Laura said, leaning closer to kiss the tattooed skin at the back of his neck.

He tossed the handful of mittens aside and turned to face her, tenderly drawing her lips to his. The sound of his pencil, dislodged by Laura in her enthusiasm, clattering against the floor broke them apart, and they both started laughing when their attention fell to the blanket that had until recently been the sole province of young Cyrus.

Sephie and Phin had laid down on either side of the baby and pulled the edges of the blanket up over them, making for what appeared to be a crepe filled with little Roslin-Adamas.

“Anyone in here?” Laura asked, shuffling closer as Bill did the same. “I’ve got some mittens and hats, I just need to find Phin and Sephie so we can go outside and play...”

“You two better not be crushing your brother,” Bill added, though his tone was more playful than accusatory. Twin giggles escaped from beneath the blanket. A few unintelligible whispers followed, then the ends of the blanket flew back and three flushed little faces looked up at them. Phin and Sephie looked thoroughly entertained, but poor Cyrus was overwhelmed, and his face screwed up to let everyone know.

“Mittens, you two,” Bill said, reaching down to pick up the baby before he could let loose the scream that was building. The kids obediently turned to Laura, who placed a mitten on each outstretched hand and a hat on each head before zipping up their jackets. Cyrus had burrowed against Bill’s shoulder, soothed and content as Bill swayed him back and forth.

Laura had tugged on her own hat and gloves, and turned to Bill as she zipped up her heaviest coat. “Thanks for holding down the fort, dear.”

He shrugged awkwardly with his baby-free shoulder and grinned. “This guy can help me with my paper while you three play. Have fun out there.” He turned and went back to his office, and Laura could hear the mechanical cranking sounds coming from the swing that was set up in there -- this wouldn’t be the first paper Bill wrote while keeping watch over a baby. Luckily Cy was laid-back in his own way, neither fussy like his brother had been nor as energetically demanding as his sister.

 

Laura led the two older children out the front door and into the white-blanketed expanse before them. No cars were out on the road; the whole city had shut down, somewhat hysterically, hours earlier.

Phin’s green eyes were wide as saucers as he took in the snow-covered trees and the completely obscured walkway, while Sephie ran out into the yard like a puppy newly freed after spending the day in a crate. She took just a few steps through the light, powdery snow that reached the hem of her jacket, before finally giving up on making progress and throwing herself down into the white stuff.

“Mama, it’s cold!” she squealed, sitting up and blinking the snowflakes off her long lashes. She pushed herself up and ran maniacally around in circles, kicking the snow out in front of her with her red ladybug boots. Phin clung to Laura, turning his face into her corduroys to avoid the falling snow.

“Come on, Phineus,” Laura coaxed. She took one staggered step after another, impeded by both the snow and the thirty pounds of timidity attached to her leg. “You can walk in it, it’s okay.”

Her burden was finally relieved when Sephie ran up to them and grabbed Phin by the arm, forcing him to let go of his grip on Laura and follow Sephie into the snow she’d already tramped down. She laughed and pulled him to the ground, rolling around. He followed her lead, and soon they were both covered in a thick crust of snow.

Laura stood by, happy to see them exploring the foreign substance. Phin was enjoying it as much as Sephie once he got over his wariness. She reached down, unable to resist gathering up a handful of snow and packing it together. Caprica City hadn’t seen a snowfall like this in years. Laura's memories of the last one were as cloudy as the skies above, but she guessed she’d been in... primary school? ... the last time there’d been enough snow to gather up into a serviceable snowball.

She crouched down beside her little polar bears, who barely registered her presence as they chased each other around. Driven by a distant memory, she began rolling the snowball around the untrodden snow, nearly surprised at how quickly it grew into a decent-sized boulder.

“Mama what you do?” Phin, breathless, came up beside her and leaned against the snowball that was now nearly his size.

“I’m making a snow Cylon,” Laura said.

“What a snow Cylon?” Sephie demanded to know, joining them.

Laura reached out and brushed away the snow from Sephie’s cheeks and the red curls, now wet, that peeked out from beneath her hat. “It’s something we can make with the snow. This--” she gestured to the boulder before them “-- is the bottom part. Want to help me make the rest?”

They looked at one another. “Yeah!”

She showed them how to make the first starter snowball, hoping that she wouldn’t end up regretting having given them that knowledge for a potential future arsenal, and before long they had pushed and grunted and squealed their way to making two more pieces, with some shaping help and direction from Laura. She hoisted the middle piece on top of the larger boulder, then picked up Phin so that he could stack the headpiece in the appropriate place himself.

“Very good,” Laura praised them. The final product towered over the twins, at nearly four feet tall. She looked toward the house; she really needed some tinfoil and a piece or two of licorice for some flair, both of which she was fairly certain were still present in her half-packed kitchen. But she was sure that once they went inside, it would be for good. She gently tugged Sephie away from their creation, afraid the girl’s no-holds-barred hug to the snow Cylon might bring about its premature demise, and felt around in her pocket to see if she had anything with which to adorn the thing. Some loose change and a random puzzle piece wouldn’t be very helpful, but when her fingers closed around a familiar tube, she felt hope that was confirmed when she pulled it out and noted that it was the deep, rich red she’d lately favored.

“Now we draw the face,” Laura explained to the kids, who were looking at her for direction.

Phin couldn’t care less, but Sephie knew what Laura held in her hand; it wasn’t that long ago she’d drawn all over the kitchen wall in a lighter shade of lipstick. “I wanna!”

“You want to what, darling?” Laura kept her tone light, but her face was all business. Was a _please_ too much to ask?

“Draw face. Pweeze.”

She patted the snow down firmly where the roving red eye would go and picked up Sephie. Sephie’s chubby little fist could barely fit around the tube of lipstick, but somehow Laura was able to guide her in applying the product in a straight line where she imagined the eyes would go, the lipstick saturating the icy surface. She stepped back, pleased with the effect, and let Sephie slide down to the ground. “See? Snow Cylon.”

“Slow sny-on,” Phin tried. “Daddy fly. Shoot dem.” Sephie pantomimed shooting their friend-turned-enemy, her aggressive stance and high kicks just as much a threat to the structure’s integrity as her hugging of it had been.

“Daddy fought Cylons in the war, that’s right,” Laura said, wondering what Bill had been telling them during their bedtime stories. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. She needed to fill their heads with something more benign. “How about we make snow angels now?”

“What a snow angle?” Sephie asked.

Laura pulled up the hood on her coat and made sure it was secure before taking a few steps away from the snow Cylon scene in an effort to locate some untouched, abundant snow. “You lie back and move your arms and legs like this.” She eased herself down into the snow, wincing at the coldness that enveloped her limbs. But the coldness quickly fled as she began making wide sweeping motions with each of her extremities. A couple passes later she figured she’d have achieved the desired effect, and sat up.

Sephie was, unsurprisingly, already copying Laura’s movements in a plot of snow a few feet away, her little limbs working furiously. Phin watched, taking note when Laura stood up to inspect the imprint she’d left.

“What dat?” he asked, pointing at it.

“Snow angel,” she said. “You try, honey.”

Phin’s little brow furrowed doubtfully, but his refusal was cut short by Sephie’s gleeful bound from her spot on the ground to his side. “Come Phinny! You go now.”

Instead of finding his own fresh patch of snow, he waddled over to Laura’s former spot and lay down inside the much larger indentation. Laura had to hand it to him; the kid had the right idea, but wasn’t interested in taking the risk of laying down in the unpredictable powder.

“That works, too,” she allowed with a shrug.

Phin laughed at the big snowflakes coming down onto his face. Sephie, finally still beside Laura, had started chattering, though her cheeks were flushed with warmth.

“Sephie, you want to go inside?”

“No,” she said without hesitation, though she looked up at Laura as if she wanted to be picked up and held.

A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, Laura supposed. Barring future vacations to one of the ski-resort secondary planets, they probably wouldn’t see another snowfall for the rest of their childhoods. Tauron’s arid climate never saw snow below the peaks of its scattered mountain ranges, all of which were far from Hypatia. She bent down and held her arms out to Sephie, groaning with effort as she swung her up to her hip. “How did you get so big?”

Sephie just grinned and nestled her face into the thick wool of Laura’s scarf, seeking dry warmth beyond the outer layer of melting snow. Meanwhile on the ground, Phin’s movements had slowed, and he was mostly just staring up at the gray, swirling sky.

“Okay, you two,” Laura announced, having become somewhat bored with the snow herself. Plus Sephie was getting heavier by the moment as she slid closer toward sleep. “Time to go inside. Mommy’s ready to get warm.”

Phin pushed himself up. “Daddy come play?” he asked, looking hopefully at the house.

Laura shook her head. “No, honey. Daddy’s working.”

“Why you no working?” Sephie asked her.

“Because Mommy’s got some time off before starting a new job on Tauron,” Laura said. “Remember how we talked about how we’re moving to a new house, and that’s why we packed up all our things?”

Sephie nodded, whether out of actually comprehension or just a precocious understanding of social cues, Laura couldn’t be sure.

“Well, we are moving so that Mommy can work at a new job there, and Daddy will keep going to school.”

“I go to school?” Phin asked, hopping up and down.

Laura took his hand and began walking back up to the house, the snow crunching beneath both their feet. “Soon you’ll go to school, honey. Not right away.”

His lower lip stuck out at that, but Sephie backed her up: “I don’t wan’ go to schooool.”

Laura kissed her daughter’s cold cheek. “Honey, right now we are just going inside to get warm and dry. Won’t that be nice?” She showed them how to stomp and kick the snow out of the treads of their boots, and brushed them off best she could before opening the front door and ushering them in.

“Stand right ther-- oh!” The warmth and smell of something baking hit her at the same time, even though her nose had started to run from the change in temperature and all she could sense was a vague goodness emanating from the kitchen. Bill came out wearing Laura’s frilly Viper apron and confirmed her sensory suspicions.

“Hey, guys,” he said, smiling. “How’d you like the snow?” He bent down to help Phin take off his boots.

“We make slow snyon,” Sephie said. “I shoot it!”

Bill gave Laura a questioning look.

“Snow Cylon,” she clarified. “And she hugged it first.”

“Hmph. We’ve got a little collaborator on our hands.”

“Daddy, I want go to school,” Phin announced. “Go to school with you.”

Bill looked confused. “I don’t have to go to school, buddy. All my classes are finished and I just have to send in my papers when they’re done.”

“How is that going, anyway?” Laura inquired. “From the look of this,” she reached out and tugged at the bib of his apron, “you weren’t writing for all that long while we were outside.”

He scoffed. “You of all people know that it doesn’t take too long to make a proper dessert.”

Her mouth watered; all that playing had built up an appetite. “Yum.” She tossed Sephie’s coat and pants to dry near the drafty window and raked her fingers through her daughter’s tangled hair. “You guys want to go change into dry clothes?”

They didn’t bother to respond, just took off running toward their room. Laura hoped that there were still some unpacked, clean clothes for them to change into. She started to remove her own coat and boots, careful to avoid the puddles of icy water that had accumulated in the foyer as she stepped out in her stocking feet. Bill looked at her, amused.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, reaching out to cup her chilly cheek. "Playing in the snow agrees with you."

Laura flushed even more than the earlier exertions and sudden exposure to warmth had caused in her fair skin. “You’re silly.” Her hair was matted far worse than Sephie’s, she was dressed in her comfortable high-waisted “mom jeans” and a bulky sweater that was technically Bill’s...

“Can you watch them while I get changed?” she asked, suddenly eager to get out of the unflattering damp clothing.

“Of course.”

They walked together as far as the twins’ room, at which point Bill took over helping Sephie yank her shirt over her head, where it had gotten stuck--and tangled with her suspenders. Phin sat on his toddler bed in his underwear, waiting for assistance. Laura gave the patient one an approving wink before moving on to her and Bill’s room and quickly changing into leggings, thick socks, and a long sweater. When she emerged, she found the twins sitting at the kitchen counter and Bill pouring glasses of milk for both of them. He’d swapped out his apron for a sling, and Cyrus was now nestled comfortably within it. The baby reminded Laura of an owl, with his tendency to watch everyone intently with his large dark eyes from his perch against Bill.

A timer rang out, causing the kids to clap and cheer and, she suspected, kick the counter, although now that the house was finally sold she wasn’t as concerned about that as she might have formerly been. Laura decided to make herself useful and went to open the oven.

The burst of warmth that came forth was welcome, as was the scent of freshly baked...cupcakes?

“This wasn’t what I thought you were making,” she said, setting the tray of Caprican apple muffins to cool on the counter.

“I know,” he admitted. “I figured we have plenty of cherry cake in our future.”


	10. Tauron Transitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Roslin-Adamas adjust to their new life on Tauron.

[](http://afrakaday.livejournal.com/2326.html#cutid3) Banner by sci-fi-shipper

 

"Ready for your last day of school, Superintendent?” Bill leaned over Laura’s shoulder and grinned at her in the mirror before sweeping her hair aside and kissing her neck.

“Mmmm.” She leaned into him, closing her eyes for a moment. She turned her head to meet his mouth with her own for a brief kiss, then returned to applying her makeup. “I’ll be so glad to have this first year finally under my belt and not feel like such a novice.” A swipe of lipstick passed over her lips, which she pursed thoughtfully. “A few of the real old-timers are retiring from the administration. It should make things easier, next year.” Although she’d be making an appearance at the district retirement party later that day, she felt nothing but relief that the old guard who had balked at accepting a Caprican as their boss were finally moving on.

“You’ve done great, Laura.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a squeeze. “Not just at your job, but with everything--I know it hasn’t been easy.”

She dusted some translucent powder across her cheeks, forehead, and chin. “I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since we left Caprica,” she admitted, putting the powder away in the drawer. “So many changes...but the kids seem to be happy, at least.”

As if on cue, Sephie dragged Phin into the bathroom, with Cyrus toddling far behind them, trying and failing to keep up. Sephie was wearing underpants and nothing else, while the boys were both fully dressed. “Mama! I need!”

Bill and Laura exchanged a glance, and by tacit agreement, Bill took the lead. “You need what, muffin?”

“Phin took my shirt! I wanted to wear it to Lar-Lar’s.”

“Did not,” muttered Phin, plucking at his yellow t-shirt. “Dis is my shirt.”

“I think you both have that one,” Laura said, crouching down to inspect Phineus’s shirt, emblazoned with the logo of the Tauron Bulls. “We got these when we went to the match against Hades Vice, right?”

Bill nodded. “I should have written their initials on the tag.”

Sephie’s tantrums had prompted what might be deemed an excess of labeling, but it helped keep the peace. Laura reached beneath Phin’s dark shoulder-length curls--a trip to the barber was probably in order--and inspected the tag. It had in fact been marked with an indelible _P_. “Sephie, this shirt is Phin’s. Let’s go pick out something else to wear, okay?”

Sephie pouted, her lower lip sticking out comically. “I want Bulls shirt!”

“Persephone Jane.” Laura leaned down and picked up her daughter. It was getting harder and harder to do; at least Cyrus was still small enough to carry around easily. “Come on, honey.” Laura rolled her eyes at Bill, who chuckled and followed the girls out of the bathroom, leading the boys into the kitchen. He could hear Sephie’s whining from down the hall.

Bill sat each of the boys at the child-sized table in the corner of the kitchen and poured them each some juice before going about making them toast. As the toast was browning, he poured coffee for himself and Laura. “Laura,” he called, looking at the clock on the microwave. “You’re going to be late.”

Laura finally emerged from the kids’ room with a beaming Sephie in tow. The girl was wearing a bright red shirt that clashed loudly with her strawberry-blond mop, her little denim skirt held up by the rainbow suspenders she loved so much. Bright yellow jelly sandals completed the ensemble. “It’s the last day,” Laura said, plunking Sephie at the table between Phin and Cyrus. “I can be late if I want.”

“Save that attitude for when school’s not in session, Doc,” Bill said.

Laura smiled at the thought. “Can’t wait to have more time to spend with you guys.” She sipped her coffee, the hot liquid burning a caffeinated trail down her throat. “What are you all up to today? The twins have Pyramid tonight, right?” Calling it “pyramid” was a stretch, as the three-year-olds tended to run around and into each other more than anything, and frequently demanded that they each have their own ball on the court, negating much of the purpose of the game.

“I love practice!” Phin said to Sephie. She wrinkled her nose and accepted the toast Bill handed her on a napkin.

“They do,” Bill said, “at five, so if you want to come there after work--”

Laura’s face showed her disappointment. “I’d love to, but I have the stupid retirement party.”

“ _Stupid_ re-ty-ment,” echoed Sephie.

Bill shrugged. “Go to the party, remind them that you never let ‘em see you sweat.”

“I’ll come to the next one,” she said. “Okay, Phinny?”

Phin nodded vigorously, while Cy babbled next to him. Laura noticed that his little fists were glistening with a mixture of butter and toast crumbs. “Oh, Cyrus.” She wet a cloth and leaned down to clean him up. “Toast is for eating, not for smashing.”

“Smash, then eat,” Sephie suggested, then demonstrated by placing two buttered halves of bread facing each other and pounding it violently against the table with her palm. Phin gave his toast a far more timid press.

“This is why you guys don’t get jelly,” Bill said.

“I really am late,” Laura said, throwing the cloth into the sink. She rinsed off her hands, took one last slug of coffee, then leaned over to give Bill a quick kiss. “Don’t let them get into too much trouble at Larry and Sam’s today.”

Bill looked at her in feigned innocence. “What, you think we teach them how to play Triad or something?”

“Full colors!” shouted Sephie. “I win!” She threw her smashed toast into the air in celebration, then grabbed Cyrus’s discarded crust from in front of him and stuffed it in her mouth.

Laura exhaled slowly, her stern visage finally slipping into a giggle. “Right. Be good, kids.” She bent down and gave them each a quick kiss, intercepting the twins’ grubby hands before they could wipe them down on her pressed trousers. Cyrus got picked up and given a squeeze and a pat to his padded bottom before she handed him off to Bill. “He needs a change, dear. Full colors.”

“Love you,” Bill told her. “We’ll see you tonight.”

“No Triad!” she called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

Phin looked up at Bill, his green eyes wide. “We’ll play Go Fish, Daddy,” he offered.

 

* * *

 

Laura swirled the white wine in her glass, trying not to let her boredom show too much as Birdie Poulis droned on about her garden. “Nothing too decorative or flowering,” she was saying, “that wouldn’t do at all, but my herbs and vegetables are doing just great--the garden gets bigger every year, and now that I’m retired, I can stay on top of picking so I can share with the neighbors, they just love having fresh cucumbers--”

Laura nodded politely and let her gaze drift over the room. The wood-paneled bar and restaurant was modest; she really hadn’t minded signing off on the funding for the party. Attending it, however, was another matter. She resisted the urge to pull out her phone to check the time and for messages from Bill, who would occasionally text her photos of the kids as they played.

“Come on Birdie, Dr. Roslin is Caprican. She doesn’t have any interest in hearing about your garden,” David Simos said with a sneer as he sidled up to the women. “Don’t think they even allow gardens in Caprica City, just steel and glass oppressing the natural landscape.”

“It’s true I’ve never kept one myself, ” Laura admitted, “but yours sounds lovely, Birdie.” Except for the whole no-flowers part. What the frak was the Taurons’ problem with flowers and pretty things? Lords knew this brown, arid planet could use a little color and beauty. “Though admittedly, Mr. Simos, there is a difference in general aesthetics between most of the Colonies, wouldn’t you agree?” She shot him a smile she hoped didn’t completely convey the _frak you_ see was feeling. “Now if you would excuse me, I have yet to give my regards to our guests of honor.”

She let her grin fall into a frustrated smirk as she tried to remind herself that he wasn’t set to retire for a few more years yet. Maintaining the peace with the bitter long-term Assistant Superintendent was in her best interest, she repeated to herself until her ire receded. She looked around for a friendly face, but unfortunately, Birdie’s had been the most kindly of the lot.

The past year had gone by quickly, but she still found herself questioning whether they’d made the right choice in moving here. Despite her years of research, training, and responsibility for implementing progressive educational ideals across the Colonies, she found the practice on the ground here much more difficult than she’d expected. The tough Tauron people had always seemed so benign, back home: Bill’s no-nonsense but accepting extended family, the tattoo parlor owner in Little Tauron who’d gotten to know them so well over the years. But the people here were suspicious, untrusting-- not only of her own Caprican roots, but of her husband’s family’s alleged, now aged, Ha’la’tha connections. She supposed two civil wars in thirty years and an eight-hundred-year legacy of unwanted foreign intervention could do that to a planet.

“Glad to have made it through another school year, Dr. Roslin?” intoned a voice behind her. Laura spun around, flustered. Randolph Krell was the principal of one of the high schools in the district, and presented the opposite problem as so much of the other faculty in that he was almost _too_ friendly. Laura cringed inwardly at the memory of his repeated efforts to take her out for dinner or coffee when she’d first started, to “bring her up to speed,” his efforts not ceasing even after she’d point-blank told him she had a husband and young kids at home. _Some men..._

“Hello, Randolph,” she said with a strained smile. “Congratulations are in order, I believe.”

His posture indicated surprise, but his face remained impassive. “What for?”

“Your school’s graduation rate. Highest in the district for the fourth year in a row, leading the way for the entire district to have graduated a higher percentage of those who matriculated as freshmen than in any year in its history.”

He smirked and smoothed the front of his blazer in a self-congratulatory gesture. “Well -- the district’s policies this year were very effective.” An obsequious nod confirmed Laura’s suspicion: he was brown-nosing. He looked down at her nearly empty glass and began to ask, “Can I get you a--”

Laura’s phone buzzed in her blazer pocket, saving her from the awkward encounter when she looked down at the display and saw that it was from their neighbor Deirdre, whose son was on the twins’ pyramid team and a frequent victim of Sephie’s exuberant style of play. “Pardon me, please, I really have to take this.”

Randolph shrugged, turning his attention to some young primary school teachers huddled around the punch bowl. Laura headed for a quiet corner and answered the phone. “Hi Deirdre, what’s up?”

“Hi, Laura.” The sounds of children playing could be heard in the background. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

“Not at all,” she said truthfully as she left the room for a quieter corridor. “Is everything okay? Is someone hurt?”

“Yeah, everyone’s fine,” Deirdre began, and Laura’s initial fear that one of her own children might be injured was replaced by a suspicion that perhaps Sephie had injured one of the other kids...again. “It’s just--”

“I can come out there right away, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Um, Laura, did you see the shirt Sephie’s wearing today?”

Laura tried to remember, but all she could see in her mind’s eye was the contentious yellow Tauron Bulls t-shirt that had sparked the brief bathroom battle all those hours ago. “I helped her dress this morning. It might have been a red shirt. Why?”

“I take it you don’t read Old Tauron?”

The back of Laura’s neck prickled, unsure at what Deirdre was implying with the question and hating that not knowing almost as much as having to concede that she didn’t, in fact, know Old Tauron. “No, I don’t.”

“Does Bill?”

“Not much, I think. Why?”

“It’s Sephie’s shirt...it says ‘Gautrau in Training’ on it. In Old Tauron.”

Laura tried again to envision the offensive t-shirt before responding. All she could see now were those ridiculous rainbow suspenders that Laura had long since wanted to hide to keep Sephie from wearing them with everything.

“Is Bill there?”

Deirdre hesitated. “Yeah...I just thought I’d better call you. I kind of figured that Bill knew what it said and maybe you didn’t.”

She’d assumed that Bill condoned it. Interesting. “I appreciate it, Deirdre. If you don’t mind, please feel free to enlighten Bill. And maybe try to get Sephie to turn her shirt inside out, if you can convince her.”

The other woman laughed. “I don’t think anyone’s making Sephie do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

Laura sighed. Her most strong-willed child was both a joy and a trial, sometimes. “Thanks again. I’ll see you at Thursday’s practice?”

“Of course. Bye.”

Laura disconnected and looked dumbly at the phone in her hand. She considered calling Bill, but ultimately placed the phone back in her pocket and returned to the party to give the retirees her best so that she could head out.

She needed to have a talk with Sam Adama. Theios Sam-Sam had some explaining to do.

 

* * *

 

Sam answered the door, shirtless as was his wont. He must have been working out; a sheen of sweat glistened on his tanned and tattooed chest.

It was a bit much to see her children’s great-uncle this way, but she supposed it boded well for Bill’s appearance later in life.

“Hey, Laura,” he greeted her. “You here to pick up Cy?” He moved aside to let her in.

“No, I actually didn’t even know that Bill had left him here,” she said. Sure enough, Larry sat on the deep leather couch, bouncing the toddler on his lap. Both wore happy smiles of mutual amusement.

“Hi there,” Larry said, looking up at Laura. “Look who’s here, Cy.”

Cyrus’ four-toothed smile widened and he reached toward Laura.

“Larry didn’t want to give up his buddy when Bill took the twins to pyramid,” Sam said before taking a long drink of water from a tall glass. “I said we’d be happy to hang onto this guy for a little while longer.”

Laura leaned over to let Cyrus grasp his fist around two of her fingers. “Hi, buddy,” she said, giving his forehead a kiss. “If you don’t mind entertaining him a little bit longer, Larry, I’d like to speak to Sam for a few minutes.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Larry replied. “Won’t it, Cy?”

“Lar-Lar,” Cyrus agreed, locking his knees and standing tall on Larry’s lap.

“Sam-- do you mind?” Laura asked, gesturing toward the glass doors leading out to the patio.

He gave her an easy smile. “Of course not. Let me just go put my shirt back on.”

“Show-off,” Larry called after him. He turned on the couch to face Laura. “How are you doing? Today was the last day of school, right?”

“It was, thank the gods,” Laura said. “Larry, you don’t by chance speak Old Tauron, do you?”

“I learned a couple of food words at the restaurants we used to go to in Little Tauron,” he said, “but nah, I don’t speak or read it.”

“Ah.” Laura pulled out her phone; the twins’ practice should have ended by now. “Me either.” She patted Cyrus’ chubby cheek and went outside to wait for Sam.

The small outdoor space was ringed by red-leafed trees and shorter green ferns. Laura took a moment to savor the quiet, breathing deeply and reminding herself that the shirt wasn’t that big of a deal. She was annoyed, but Sam and Larry were family-- pretty much the only family they had on this planet. Sending Sephie to pyramid practice in an obnoxiously pro-Ha’la’tha shirt reflected badly on her, but she would at least hear Sam out.

The movement of the sliding door alerted her to his presence. He’d donned a white v-neck t-shirt that set off the deep blue of his many tattoos.

Sam sat down across from her. “Having the kids around has been such a joy to us,” he remarked. “Larry always wanted for us to have children, but I got out of the game too late for that.”

She smiled at the thought of a younger Sam and Larry toting around their own dark-haired children. “Well, they adore both of you.”

He leaned back in the wrought-iron chair and looked at her with his familiar piercing blue gaze. “So what brings you here, Laura?”

“I got a call from a concerned parent this afternoon,” she said, templing her fingers. “She thought I might be interested to know that Sephie was wearing a rather provocative t-shirt for a three-year-old.”

His face remained inscrutable, so she continued. “Gautrau in Training? Really, Sam?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? That’s it?” Laura leaned forward. “Sam, do you know how it looks for me-- a Caprican still trying to be accepted by my colleagues-- to be sending my kid to pyramid practice in a shirt that makes a political statement?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Sam.” Was he being deliberately obtuse, exercising an old man’s prerogative? “I’m sure that you are well aware of where my sympathies lie where recent history is concerned. But I don’t think you appreciate how tough it is to encourage a conciliatory, though accurate, curriculum in the schools.”

“Laura. We _won_. After all those years Joe and I spent living on Caprica, the Ha’la’tha our only family, sending back everything I earned to the Resistance? Both of us risking everything to send those godsdamned robots to Tauron?” He absently rubbed the small Tauron mark of manhood just below his right wrist. “And now to finally be back home, after years in exile? With a new generation of my blood living here, too? I want to celebrate that.” His gaze turned distant, toward the horizon. “I only wish Yusef were here with us.”

“I understand. But you should have given us a heads up about the shirt, instead of just sending it home with Sephie to be translated by a concerned neighbor.” She narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t made any other additions to the twins’ wardrobes, have you? Just that one shirt?”

“Just the one,” he said, raising his hands defensively. She noticed how he still bent his left hand to be less conspicuous, even after all these years. “Just for Sephie.”

“They’re starting to pick up on things like that, you know,” she said. “Why just her?”

He shook his head thoughtfully. “From the time she was a baby...I can’t quite explain it. I just knew.”

Laura suspected she knew what he was getting at, but she asked anyway. “Knew what.”

He smiled, proud but wary. “Girl’s got stones. She reminds me of someone I used to know...”

“And?”

“Well, she became Guatrau.”

Laura closed her eyes against the onslaught of implications, most of them violent, that comparison elicited. Though the image of Sephie in a Tauron-style gangster hat nearly brought her to giggles. “Lovely.”

“Look, Laura. I’m not saying Sephie’s going to become a hitwoman--even if she does have it in her blood...”

“Sam.” Laura reached across the table and laid her hand over his. “She is _three_.”

“And always faithful to the soil. Doesn’t matter that she’s three.”

“My gods, this family.”

“You chose it.”

“Yes, I did. And I love it. I just don’t think we should be using the kids to broadcast that history. Sephie doesn’t know anything about the Ha’la’tha. And I know that she _will_ \--” (Sam and Tsattie would see to that, Laura had no doubt, and maybe she was being overly optimistic about the content of the stories they’d already told her) “--but for now, I think we don’t need to be inviting controversy.” The Adamas’ side may have won the last uprising, but there were plenty of people on Tauron who had been among the losers-- paramilitary groups like the Heraclitus and the groups that had emerged from it--who resented that the current elected government had origins in decades of trans-world organized crime.

Sam silently considered her request, then nodded curtly. “You’re the expert.”

Laura smiled. “I am. But I’m also her mother. And she’s hard enough to rein in without you filling her head with ideas of being some gun-slinging, dagger-wielding assassin.”

The door slid open again before Sam could respond, and Bill stepped over the threshold, holding Sephie on his hip with Phin at his side. Larry and Cyrus weren’t far behind. Bill was obviously pleased to see her. “Hey, hey, look who’s here!”

“Mama!” Phin ran up to Laura and she pushed her chair back so that he could scramble up into her lap.

“Hi, sweetheart. How was practice?”

Phineus grinned. “Good! I ran fast.”

“Phin scored goals,” Sephie said, adding, “I ran over Aidan.”

Well, at least it hadn’t been Deirdre’s son Demetrius again.

Bill set her down on her feet, and she walked over to Sam, her little heels dragging with fatigue. Sam offered his right fist to Sephie in congratulations. She formed a fist of her own and smacked her knuckles against Sam’s before they both withdrew their hands, fingers extended to emulate an explosion.

“What brings you here?” Bill asked Laura, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“Sephie’s shirt,” she said.

Bill looked at the red t-shirt with white lettering. “What about it?”

So Deirdre hadn’t told him. Laura looked at Sam. “Care to translate?”

He coughed. “Uh, it was a gift from me. It says ‘Gautrau in Training.’”

“In Old Tauron,” Laura added helpfully. “Too bad neither of us can read it. Deirdre called me from practice to let me know.”

Bill frowned at his uncle. “That’s kind of a loaded thing to put on a kid’s t-shirt.”

Laura cut in. “And that’s why the shirt will stay here. Bill, do you have extra clothes for the kids?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll go grab something for her. I just did some laundry this afternoon,” Larry said before handing Cyrus over to Bill and disappearing back into the house.

“So we get to keep it?” Sam asked.

Laura looked to Bill and nodded. “At least now we know not to send her to Pyramid in it. Or, gods forbid, school.” The twins would be starting preschool in the fall. Not for the first time, it occurred to her how glad she’d be to have the twins spending slightly less time under the influence of their uncles.

“I don’t wan’ go to schooool,” Sephie whined into Sam’s leg.

He grinned and looked at Bill, then Laura. “Now she’s reminding me of someone else.” A shadow of loss passed between uncle and nephew.

Larry returned to the patio, holding a tank top. “Sephie, girlfriend, let’s take off that dirty shirt and put this pretty purple one on.”

Sephie looked from Larry to Sam, and when the latter nodded encouragingly, she accepted the suggestion and began tugging the red shirt over her head. “Okay!”

“Would you all like to stay for dinner?” Larry asked Laura and Bill. “I’ve got some chicken I was going to grill.”

Bill looked to Laura for direction, then spoke for them both. “Thanks so much, Lar, but we’ve got to get these guys home.” Cyrus had his head against Bill’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed as he struggled against sleep.

Sam took the red shirt from Larry and waved it at Laura in defeat. “Thanks for letting us keep this here, mom.”

“Don’t make me regret it, Sam,” she said, her tone cool but her eyes warm. She caught Bill’s curious look and mouthed, _later_.

 

* * *

 

Back home, the kids ate a quick dinner of noodles before being subjected to their bath-and-bed routine. The twins were exhausted from pyramid, and went to sleep with minimal resistance under Bill’s supervision while Laura rocked Cyrus with a bottle of milk. It was only two-thirds gone when his mouth went slack and he began to snore softly.

Laura traced his hairline, the barely-there brows smattered across ridged bone. He looked more distinctly like Bill than either Sephie or Phin; his cheeks were fuller, his nose a little wider, his blue eyes crinkled when he smiled. She set the bottle on the side table and kissed both of those soft cheeks before gathering him close to transfer him to his crib.

He stretched out once he hit the mattress and babbled briefly while Laura held her breath, then he curled up on his stomach. Laura could see the even-measured rise and fall of his back, his pink bow mouth open and his cheek squished up against the mattress. Tiptoeing to the door, Laura listened for a few more moments before flipping the switch and finding Bill waiting just outside in the hallway.

“He’s so easy,” Laura whispered, pulling the door not quite closed behind her. It still astounded her how much easier-going Cyrus was about pretty much everything, compared to the twins. Particularly bedtime.

“Hmm.” Bill wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her to the comfy couch in the living room. “We caught a break with him, for sure.”

Laura eased down into the plush leather, while Bill picked up a couple handfuls of toys and put them in the chest before joining her. He held out an arm, and she leaned against his side so that he could drape it over her shoulders. “S’nice.”

“Want to tell me about your conversation with my uncle?”

“Ehh.” She did, but at the same time, she didn’t want to think about some of the things he’d said. So she deflected. “What’s up with him always being shirtless?”

Bill chuckled, his laughter vibrating against her cheek where it was nestled to his chest. “Force of habit, I guess.”

“Anyway. I figured out pretty quickly that he must have given Sephie the shirt at some point, so I went over there to explain to him why that put me in an awkward position.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t catch it when he first sent it home, honey.”

“Why would you? You don’t read Old Tauron any better than I do. Sam, on the other hand - “

“How did he try to justify it?”

Laura frowned. “Basically he thinks Sephie takes after him. And your grandmother.”

He considered that for a moment. “He’s probably right. Good thing there’s not much demand for enforcers these days.”

“For now,” she said. “But Bill, she’s only three. Who knows if the peace will last? Maybe the current government will be ousted and we’ll find ourselves back in the middle of a resistance movement. Maybe the Cylons come back, and protection comes at a price. And maybe she decides to follow in her uncle’s footsteps instead of her father’s.” She didn’t say her next thought aloud, but she looked into Bill’s eyes, and knew he could see the question in hers: _Did we do the right thing by moving here?_

He kissed her brow and rubbed her arm soothingly. “That’s a lot of if’s, sweetheart. And we will deal with them, and my uncle if need be when the time comes. But for now, I love that our kids are growing up with the culture and understanding of their roots that I never had,” he said. “They will know who they are and where they come from.”

“And they won’t be discriminated against for being Tauron like they would have been on Caprica.”

“As for how long the peace will last...” He leaned back and pulled her more against his chest, then moved her hand to his bad knee. “Bad things happen all across the Colonies, Laura. We just have to keep them safe as long as we can, raise them to take care of themselves.”

She hummed, thinking of Joseph and Sam and how despite all of the odds stacked against them, one of them had yet to return to the soil. “And each other.”


	11. Tauron Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little over a year in the lives of Bill, Laura, and the babies Roslin-Adama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to fragrantwoods for the beta.  
> Sorry for the long lapse between updates! This story's not done yet.

The kids had fallen fast asleep before their little heads hit their pillows, exhausted after a day of playing and swimming at the community pool. Laura switched off the overhead light in their room and gently closed the door behind her, then went to find Bill on the couch.

“Feel like taking a shower?” she asked him. The late-summer heat permeated the house, and a cool shower seemed like just the thing to wash away the day’s residue of chlorine and sunscreen-- particularly if her husband would join her.

“Mmmm?” Bill looked up from his book, _A History of Libran Legal Education and Its Effect on the Militaries of the Twelve Worlds._

Slow going; it looked like he hadn’t made much progress from the afternoon, when he’d tried to read for a few minutes but had instead been recruited into a game of catch with Phin and Sephie before being led into the wading pool by an insistent Cyrus.

“Shower? _Together_?” Laura stepped closer, insinuating herself between his knees.

He placed the bookmark at the open page and leaned back, eyeing Laura up and down appreciatively. “That,” he said, “sounds like an excellent idea.”

Within minutes they had stripped off their clothes and were standing in the close quarters of their shower. A baby monitor receiver sat on the vanity and their robes hung from the back of the door in case one of them needed to make a quick escape. Laura wet her hair and her face, then turned to Bill with an inviting smile: _let’s get started_. “Hi.”

He let his hands come to her waist and gently pushed her out from under the spray so that he could rinse himself off. Laura giggled and slid her hands down his flanks to his hip bones, knowing that the proximity of her hands to his cock would move things along toward her ultimate goal. Rivulets of water streamed down his well-defined abdominal muscles, a translucent spray dripping over his wedding tattoo as she admired the view.

His erection grew instantly as her hand finally encircled his length. She gave it a few lazy pumps, then reached for the soap and lathered up her hands. 

Bill hissed in pleasure as her palms stroked him, tight and slick, one after the other until she changed the tempo, focused on rolling the tip of his cock in her fist while the other hand reached beneath the action to stroke his balls. 

With each thrust Laura moved closer to him, shifting her body against his and adjusting his length so that instead of thrusting into her hand, he was sliding between her thighs while she squeezed him tight. One of his hands found its way to her breast, teasing the nipple until it was tight and pebbled. Laura leaned back against the shower wall, tugging Bill closer to her as he alternated gentle kisses with sharp nips to the side of her neck. His tongue slowly traced the green and burgundy lines of the vine tattoos that crept from her shoulders across her clavicle to the tops of her breasts.

“More,” she moaned, rolling her hips against his. Bill growled, a deep, animalistic sound that sent Laura’s pulse racing. Laura lifted one leg and wrapped it around his hip, opening herself up to him.

“Already?” he asked, a question in his eyes that his fingers answered by reaching down and finding her slick and ready to receive him. 

“Gods, yes, Bill. Do it.” She guided him in, whimpering into the side of his neck as he began to move.

He braced one arm over her head against the dry part of the wall and thrust into her, his movements quick and shallow. As their passion built, mouths met and melded, neither one wanting to break the connection to do something as trivial as breathe.

“Bill, Bill--”

“Yeah, honey?”

“My leg is cramping.” It took a fair amount of effort to keep her calf propped up over the ridge of his hip, especially with the water streaming down over their bodies, and the discomfort was beginning to distract her from the otherwise immersive pleasure.

Bill answered with a deep, open-mouthed kiss while his hand found her leg and gently guided it back down to the ground. Laura moaned in relief, then rose up on her toes to try to get a better angle. As it was, his cock wasn’t in very deep, and she arched her back to try to allow him to penetrate deeper. 

“That’s not going to get you there,” he muttered, running his hands down over her breasts, flicking at the nipples before continuing down to cup her ass. He lifted her up briefly, and her squeal at being unbalanced soon became a cry of pleasure as he slid deeper inside. 

But that full sensation was taken away all too quickly, as Bill eased her back down. “Sorry. My back can’t handle that,” he admitted. One of the benefits of over five years together was a reciprocal honesty and appreciation of one another’s respective self-preservation tactics. Besides, a few minutes of pleasure wouldn’t be worth running after three kids by herself _and_ taking care of Bill as he recovered from a thrown-out back. “Turn around, sweetheart.”

Laura tilted her head to the side and nodded in approval. She gently pushed him away so she could comply with his suggestion and bend over. The brief loss of their connection was offset by the intense pleasure of him entering her from behind, his hands firmly at her hips as he sank into her as far as possible. Laura braced her hands against the slippery wall so she could push back against him with each quickening thrust. His hand found its way to her clit, circling it in time with his bucking hips. 

“Oh gods,” Laura said, her voice almost unrecognizably husky with desire. “Harder, Bill.” 

It had been at least a week since they’d last made love, and neither one of them was going to last much longer. Laura reached one hand behind her, blindly seeking out Bill’s solid mass, clasping his thigh and urging him on. His strokes were quickly going from long and sure to short and erratic. 

She gave his hip a last encouraging squeeze and brought that hand around front to replace Bill’s between her legs. Bill didn’t miss a beat as she nudged his hand up to squeeze her breast and took over the task of stimulating herself.

“Oh, oh, yes,” she sighed, sweeping her fingers back and forth over the most sensitive spot she could find--just a little to the left, _there, **oh**_. Her inner muscles began to contract around his cock, and her unintelligible cries became higher-pitched as her whole being coiled, shimmered, then exploded, taking him with her.

 

~~ _two months later_ ~~

 

“Bill?” Laura walked into the house, happy to find the kids damp-haired, pyjamaed, and sitting down to dinner around their little table in the nook off the kitchen. Sephie and Phin would soon be too big for the miniature chairs, but for now it was so much easier to contain their inevitable collective mess in the kiddie corner.

“Hi Mama!” shouted Cyrus, spewing half-masticated carrots.

 _Would the fourth chair be filled before the twins moved on to full-sized furniture?_ “Hello, my darlings.” She leaned down to kiss the tops of their heads, then turned to her husband.

“Hey.” Bill looked up from the newspaper he was reading at the counter and slid off his stool. “How’d your appointment go?”

She bit her lip, trying to stop the smile that would be a surefire giveaway of her news. Sure enough, he picked up on it, and brought his hands around her waist. His toothy grin relieved and emboldened her at the same time.

“Surprise,” she whispered just before his lips came down on hers. It was a kiss that contained a multitude of emotions: exhilaration, anticipation, gratitude, a hint of disbelief.

It was on this last feeling that he pulled back. “How?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She rose up on her toes to give him another kiss. “Do you really have to ask?”

Without warning, Bill scooped her into his arms, carried her into the living room and dropped her on the couch before settling beside her.

“Love you,” he said, cupping her cheek with his hand as his other arm pulled her close.

“I’m so glad,” she said, beaming. “All thanks to that time in the shower--”

His smile couldn’t be suppressed. “I remember.”

“The doctor lectured me about the silphium tea. Says it probably reacted badly with something, I should have known to use a backup.”

Bill shrugged. “We knew what odds we were playing.” After Cyrus, they’d briefly discussed a more permanent contraceptive solution, but agreed to continue with the traditional homeopathic herb for the time being. 

“You’re really happy about this? I know how much of the childcare has fallen on you over the past few years--”

“Of course I’m happy,” Bill broke in. “How many term papers did I write with Cyrus on my lap? The next one can help me write my thesis. And Sephie and Phin are getting much more self-sufficient.” His hand came to rest on her abdomen as he did the math. “So you’re what, two months?”

Laura nodded. “We’re due at the beginning of the summer.”

“I gotta say, Laura, excellent timing.”

“Academic timing,” she said, “if not intentional.”

“Oh,” he said, “I seem to remember it being very intentional.” He slipped his hand behind her head and brought his lips to hers, deepening the kiss, his tongue stroking hers--

“What are you doing?” Phin’s voice was vaguely accusatory. “Gwoss.”

Bill eased himself away from Laura as she blushed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“All done with dinner?” Laura asked, ignoring Phin’s question. “Should we read together?”

Sephie and Cyrus wandered into the living room from the kitchen to join their brother. Cyrus’s face was smeared with ketchup.

“Nuh-uh,” Bill told Cyrus when he reached toward Bill to be picked up onto the couch. “We gotta wipe your face first.” Bill stood up and carried Cyrus into the kitchen.

Laura turned her attention to the twins. Phin was studiously browsing the bookshelf in search of something to read. Sephie was tumbling on the floor, turning somersaults and attempting handstands.

“Nice job, Seph,” Laura said, happy Sephie had learned to channel her energy into appropriate spaces. It meant that they couldn’t have a coffee table or unupholstered chairs—anything with sharp corners—in the living room, but the inconvenience was worth it. “Oh--you almost got it.” Sephie’s legs had neared inversion, but she lost her momentum and toppled back to the ground in a heap.

“Help me do handstands, Mama,” Sephie implored. “Hold me up.”

Laura smiled. “Okay.” She got up and stood behind Sephie in the middle of the carpet, ready to catch her legs and hold them for her.

“Me too,” said Phin, having lost interest for the time being in the pile of books he’d pulled off the shelf. “Help me too, Ma.”

“I can only do one of you at a time,” Laura said, even as she waved for Phin to come closer. “Sephie, go ahead.”

Sephie threw herself forward and upside down, her little legs kicking up from the floor. Laura grabbed her ankles and held her taut, and Sephie started giggling.

“Higher!” she squealed.

“Honey, this is as good a handstand as you’re gonna get.”

“Pick me up. Make me fly!”

“Okay...since you asked for it.” Laura tightened her grip on Sephie’s ankles and twirled her around in a circle a few times. The little girl laughed hysterically, showing no fear whatsoever at being in the vulnerable position as Phin looked on curiously. Laura started to feel dizzy after a few rotations and slowed until Sephie was hanging upside down again and could safely somersault back to the ground.

“Whew.” Laura took a cue from Sephie and sat down, then took it a step further and lay back next to her daughter, taking a moment for the room to stop spinning.

“Bit much, eh?” Bill’s tone was amused. He stood over her, holding a much cleaner baby Cyrus.

“Now me. My turn,” begged Phin, tugging at Laura’s arm.

“Hmm. How about I help you into a handstand, and daddy will spin you?” Laura offered. She was fairly certain that another stunt like that would send her straight to the bathroom to retch; morning sickness wasn’t limited just to mornings. She kneeled next to Phin, helping him place his hands to the ground and lifting his legs up for him when he proved unable to kick them off the ground. “Okay, Bill. Phin’s ready to fly.”

Bill handed Cyrus off to Laura and grasped Phin by the shins. Phin’s shriek was more indicative of fear than delight, Laura thought, but Bill kept at it, twirling Phin around the room until he was a blur of yellow shirt and dark hair.

“Bill, put him down before you drop him,” Laura said. She was leaning against the front of the couch, Cyrus on her lap and Sephie curled into her side. “That’s enough family gymnastics time for now, I think.”

He came to a slow stop, but instead of depositing Phin on his hands as Laura had done with Sephie, he flipped Phin up into his arms. Phin yelped, his face red from all the blood that had run into it from the centrifugal force. When Bill set him down on his feet, Phin took a step in the direction of his pile of books, wobbled a few times, and then completely fell over.

Bill seized the opportunity to take a floor rest of his own. “Always forget how dizzy that makes me till it’s too late,” he said, turning his head to look at Laura. “How are you holding up?”

“So far so good,” she said, gesturing briefly to her stomach.

Cyrus toddled over to the pile of books, then returned with three of them. “Let’s wead!” he announced to his family. He handed one to each of his siblings. Sephie got _The Little Viper That Could_ , Phin received _Muffit’s Really Big Adventure_ , and he kept _A History of Libran Legal Education and Its Effect on the Militaries of the Twelve Worlds_ for himself.

“Hey,” Bill said. “How’d you get that?”

Cyrus laughed, and Bill pulled him into his lap.

“Okay, kids. Cy picked this one, so we’ll read it first.”

“Noooo!” the twins shrieked. “Daddy, it has no pictures!” But they went to his side anyway, ready to listen.

Laura reached over Sephie to place her hand at his back. _“Love you,”_ she mouthed to Bill before he began reading.

 

~~ _three months later_ ~~

 

“Daddy, where we go?” Cyrus asked as Bill fastened the buckles on his car seat.

“Hypatia Heights,” he told his youngest son. “You up for a little adventure?”

“Really _big_ adventure,” he replied. “Yah.”

The twins were at preschool, and Bill had finished his reading assignments for the week. The few hours of relative peace allowed him to finally get around to doing something he’d done for each of his children from soon after he knew of their existence. He just hoped Laura wouldn’t mind that he took Cyrus with him.

“You gotta be good, buddy,” Bill said over his shoulder, glancing at Cyrus in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to a place that’s not really for kids.”

“I be good, Da,” Cyrus promised.

He was going to start running out of real estate soon, Bill thought as he considered his arms. Phin and Sephie on his forearms, Cyrus on his ankle. Maybe his other ankle? The back of his calf?

 _Another girl._ They had found out just last week. He grinned at the thought of his three rambunctious kids learning to care for the new baby, to treat her gently. It would be good for them.

Three, now four. He and Laura must be crazy. But it was a way to establish themselves here, to put down roots. To give the kids more family connections when he and Laura were gone.

_Put down roots..._

Since moving to Tauron, Bill had found himself thinking about the grandparents he’d never known. Tsattie wasn’t even his blood relation, technically; she was the mother of his father’s first wife. His own grandparents had been killed during the Troubles, slaughtered by the Hercs after they helped the resistance blow up a silo of wheat.

Tsattie had lost her own family in more or less the same way, from one generation to the next, on Tauron and then on Caprica, until he was all that was left. He and Laura kept asking her if she’d move to Tauron to be closer to the family, but she always resisted, said it wasn’t her time yet.

His grandparents Isabelle and William’s time had come far too early. Maybe it was time to honor that, along with his unborn child.

 

The place didn’t look like much from the outside, housed in a square slab of concrete that might have once been a wartime blockhouse. But the Dancing Bull Body-Art Collective had come highly recommended from some of the parents of the children on the twins’ pyramid team. The sun-faded sign hanging over the door announced “Quick and custom ink!”

Bill held Cyrus on his hip, not willing to chance letting him run around and piss off other patrons or, more irrationally, potentially insert himself between needle and customer, before he had a chance to do some reconnaissance. “See all the different tattoos, Cyrus,” he said, pointing at the sample designs lining the walls.

“I get one?” Cyrus asked, his eyes wide with excitement. “Tat-too?”

Bill shook his head. “Not till you’re bigger, little man.”

“But I wanna!” he whined.

Bill looked over rows of sunbursts, hearts, and tridents; traditional Tauron symbols and more contemporary designs. Nothing appealed. “Don’t feel bad, bud. I didn’t get my first one until I married your mother.” A slight flush rose to his cheeks as he remembered his first ink, the interlocked rings nestled low on his pelvis.

“Mommies and daddies have tattoos.” Cyrus nodded with conviction. He pointed out a poster with different stylizations of the symbol for Tauron, small representations intended for the traditional mark of manhood. Bill recognized the symbol from the wrists of his father and uncle. He’d never gotten one himself, his father too guilt-ridden about his past to want to indoctrinate Bill when the time had come. He walked closer so he and Cyrus could admire them.

“I want,” Cyrus reminded Bill, slapping his hand against the poster. Bill wondered if Cy had noticed Sam’s mark of manhood. He doubted it—Sam had so much ink that the tiny mark hardly stood out. He shook his head and turned to find some assistance, only to find that a young bearded man was approaching.

“Hey, man. Coming in for some ink for you and your mini-me?” He looked past Cyrus to the poster behind them. “I usually won’t do kids until they’re at least about yea-high.” He gestured to an imaginary line around the height of his elbow. “Don’t want things to get stretched out, ya know?”

Cy lunged excitedly in Bill’s arms, but Bill held him tight and shifted him over to the opposite hip. “Just me, today,” Bill said with an easy smile. “Couldn’t get a sitter, so this guy had to come along.” Bill whispered in Cyrus’s ear and gave him an encouraging nudge.

“I Cyrus!” he blurted out to the stranger, eyes transfixed on the man’s wide-stretched ear gauges.

“Well hello, Cyrus,” the guy said. “I’m Revel.”

“Rebel,” Cy repeated.

“Ah, great,” Bill said. “You’ve done some nice work for a couple of acquaintances. I was hoping you’d be here today.”

“Yeah?” said Revel, pleased. “What are you looking to get done?” He gestured for Bill to follow him over to a workstation equipped with what looked to be a dentist’s chair and trays filled with paper-sheathed needles and a rainbow of ink-filled tubes.

Bill had thought about this some more on the drive over, and he was pretty sure he’d come to a decision, assuming the guy could do it. “Could you do a sheaf of wheat, on the back of my calf?”

Revel pulled out a sketch pad and tapped a pen thoughtfully against his temple. “A sheaf? You mean like, a bundle?”

“Right. It’s called a sheaf. There should be four distinct stalks in the bundle.” He hugged Cyrus, smushing his little face to his cheek. Cyrus squirmed away. “One for each of my kids.”

Revel started sketching, the wheat stalks quickly taking shape. “Got it.” Within moments he’d gotten the basic shape sketched out, and looked up to Bill for approval.

“Looks good.” The third stalk looked the best, so Bill pointed it out. “If you could make them all consistent with that one--”

“Got it. It’s pretty primitive-- I can give it more texture, put some individual grains at the bottom of the drawing or something.”

Bill shook his head. “No, just the silhouette is fine.”

“You gonna hold him while we do this?”

Bill nodded, then sheepishly dug a picture book out of a diaper bag. “As long as you can work while I read _The Little Viper That Could_.”

Revel laughed and began pulling out inks in blues and blacks. “I’ve worked with worse distractions before.”

 

~~ _eight months later_ ~~

 

Isabelle was a chunky, happy baby, more likely to fill the room with the sound of her laughter than her wailing. At three months old, she was holding up her head without a problem, notwithstanding that it was approximately the same size of an Aerilon melon.

Laura glanced into the dining room where Bill was arranging a spread of food around the centerpiece he’d surprised her with that morning, stalks of wheat bound up in a blue ribbon. Though she hadn’t been thrilled that he’d taken Cyrus to the parlor with him--couldn’t he have waited until they lined up a sitter so they could go together?--she had to admit that Bill’s latest adornment was a thoughtful addition. 

She smiled at Bill when he looked up from his task to catch her eyes, then returned her attention back to the living room floor. Cyrus was sitting against the sofa with Isabelle propped up against his side. He appeared to be reading to her, though when Laura started listening more closely to what he was saying, she realized that he was just making up his own version of _Muffit’s Next Big Adventure_ \-- one in which Muffit stowed away on a Raptor, made a friend on the scary moon, and then had ice cream.

“And dey ate ice cream every day and every day,” he concluded. “The end.”

Isabelle grinned and reached toward the book, but Cyrus had tossed it aside and looked like he was ready to get up. Laura moved in before he could do so, picking up Isabelle lest she flop over without her brother’s support. The infant was strong, but still relatively helpless.

“Nice job, Cy,” she said. “She loves to have you read to her.”

“I know,” he said proudly, picking up the book and returning it to the shelf. “Muffit is her favewit.”

“Do you know what we’re doing today?” she asked him, curious about how much he’d picked up on.

“Sam and Lar-Lar come over.”

“That’s right. They’re coming over because we’re going to have a ceremony for Isabelle.”

“Say-mony?”

Before Laura could explain further, a knock at the door indicated that their guests had arrived. Sephie ran to answer it, her fast little legs just barely beating Bill’s longer, calmer stride.

“Lar-Lar!” she shouted, launching herself into Larry’s arms. Phin, never far behind, wrapped himself around Sam’s knees in greeting.

“Phin, Seph. Back off so they can come inside,” Bill said easily. “Good to see you guys. The priest should be here soon.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the worlds,” Larry said. He put his arm around Sam’s waist, helping him over the threshold and into the house where more hugs and kisses awaited them both.

Laura could see the grimace on Sam’s face as he bent down to accept Sephie’s hug. He ruffled Cy’s hair, then turned to face Laura. “How’s our little princess doing?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Laura joked, turning Isabelle in her arms to face out toward their company. “Oh, you mean her. She’s great. Getting bigger every day. Finally letting us get some sleep.”

Sam kissed Laura on the cheek. “Thank you for this,” he said softly, his voice hoarse. “It’s been so long—our family hasn’t had one of these since Bill’s.”

Laura smiled and held Isabelle out to him. “It seemed appropriate, for our last baby and the first one born here.”

Larry looked from Laura to Bill. “You two are really done after this?”

Bill shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said noncommittally.

Laura rolled her eyes. Sam had barely noticed the exchange, too enamored with his newest great-niece. He took her into the living room and sat down on the couch with her, examining her tiny hands, patting her chunky belly. Isabelle cooed happily, then spit up on the bib covering her pretty smocked dress.

“Oops,” Sam said, looking for either Bill or Laura to come in and rescue him. Instead, it was Cyrus who came forward with a cloth to wipe off her face.

“Better now than all over the priest,” Bill said, unperturbed.

“There you go, Belly,” Cyrus said encouragingly. Isabelle blew spit bubbles at him.

“Well, aren’t you the best big brother?” Sam said, patting the space on the couch next to him. Cyrus climbed up and hid his face in Sam’s sleeve, embarrassed by the sudden attention of all the adults in the room. Only Phin and Sephie were unimpressed, and both wandered into the dining room to help themselves to snacks.

“You’re going to have to take care of her, watch out for her,” Laura heard Sam saying softly to Cyrus. “Phin and Sephie have each other. Isabelle and you will be the same way. Just like Yusef was to me.”

 _Protector and protected_ , Laura thought, reflecting on Bill’s surprise for Cyrus. It had been Sam’s idea, after hearing the story of Bill’s latest tattoo and Cyrus’s excitement over the prospect of his own eventual ink.

She hadn’t been crazy about it at first, but had promised to revisit the idea once the baby actually arrived. Once Isabelle was here and Laura witnessed the solicitousness with which Cyrus treated his new sibling, she’d decided there was no reason to resist (except perhaps the possibility that Phin and Sephie would get jealous and demand their own tattoos).

But Cyrus deserved his own recognition, and today was as much about him as it was about Isabelle.

The priest arrived a few minutes later, and Bill and Sam went about helping her set the altar for the ceremony while Laura and Larry sat in the living room, supervising the kids.

“Is Sam doing all right?” Laura asked Larry. “He looked like he was in pain, walking into the house.”

Larry shook his head. “Stubborn old bull did something to his back a few weeks ago while he was lifting weights, refused to go to the doctor even though he could barely walk.”

So that was why the uncles had been around so little of late. Laura frowned. “That’s too bad.”

He shrugged. “Getting old. A blessing and a curse. But how are you doing?” Larry asked. “You look great, as always.”

Laura flushed and shifted Isabelle on her lap. The baby yawned, but remained alert, watching her three siblings play a spirited game of “Father, May I?”

“Thanks, Larry.” She’d learned years ago about the power of a good under-eye concealer. “This one’s pretty easy, and the kids are more helpful than I’d thought they’d be.”

“They’re all getting so big.”

Laura nodded. “They are. Phin and Sephie have started school—”

“I love school!” Phin offered from his spot frozen in the middle of the carpet. Sephie just scowled, waiting for Cyrus to give her permission to take three hops forward.

“—and Cy is going to preschool a few days a week. He seems to like it, and he’s even starting to read a little bit.”

Bill came into the living room. “We’re ready,” he said, lifting Isabelle out of Laura’s arms and then holding out his free hand to help her up.

“We need to get a photo of the six of you today,” Larry said. “You’re all so dressed up.”

It was true—both of the boys were wearing traditional Tauron short pants with suspenders, while Sephie had on an embroidered linen blouse and floaty blue skirt, along with suspenders like the boys’ that Laura had purchased for her to preempt Sephie’s preferred rainbow ones. Bill had traded in his grad-student uniform of faded jeans and t-shirts in favor of a button-down and dark slacks, and Laura was pleased to find that her favorite A-line dress was comfortable to zip up for the first time in nearly a year. The kids had been slightly confused about why they had to wear new clothes today, but once Sephie discovered that she could still high-kick in the skirt, they’d all fallen into line rather quickly.

“We’ll have to get the priest to take one of all of us,” Laura said. “After the blessing.”

Bill squeezed her hand and they led the group into the den, where the priest stood behind Bill’s desk. Usually his desk was covered in stacks of books, folders, and notebooks, but today it had been cleared off to make room for a cloth runner, a few plants, and several pillar candles.

“Hang on a minute,” Laura said after taking in the scene and deciding it needed something else. She dashed into the dining room and grabbed the wheat sheaf, then carried it into the den and placed it at the side of the altar. She winked at Bill as she returned to his side and ran the top of her sandaled foot across the back of his calf where the inked version lay. 

Cyrus was looking around nervously, while Phin and Sephie had gravitated toward Sam, who sat in a chair at the side of the desk. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders. Laura hoped it would have the intended calming effect and allow the twins to behave for the five minutes the blessing would take.

She and Bill weren’t strongly religious, but they’d agreed when the twins were born that they wanted their children to have at least some exposure to Kobolism. Here on Tauron, the religion of the Twelve Worlds wasn’t strictly followed, and cultural traditions transcended religious ones. The priest bridged the gap between the two. Laura had felt instantly at ease with the woman, whose fierce spirit belied her short stature. She was Gemenese, a transplant on Tauron like them. Her cocoa-colored skin and turban marked her as an outsider here as much as Laura’s fair complexion and red hair did.

And she was at ease with babies, that much was easy to see as she took Isabelle from Bill and sat her on the desk-turned-altar. Isabelle looked around curiously, her eyes coming to rest on her uncharacteristically calm brothers and sisters. “Life here began out there,” Elosha began. “And it continues, from one generation to the next, each one entrusting their world and its traditions to those who come after.”

She handed Isabelle the small figurine that would become her totem. Isabelle put it in her mouth, but the priestess continued on, unperturbed.

“I consecrate this child, Isabelle, in the name of Aurora, goddess of the dawn. May the goddess protect and watch over her with the sunrise of each new day, wherever she may go.” Elosha secured her grip on the baby with one hand and gestured for Bill to bring up Cyrus. 

“And you, Cyrus,” she said to the little boy, whom Bill had placed on the desk next to Isabelle, “will be her protector as well. Do you take this charge willingly, and agree to look out for her all the days of your lives? Will you do your best to keep her safe from harm, and be her friend whenever she is in need?”

Cyrus looked from Elosha to Isabelle to Bill and finally Laura, a quizzical look on his face. Finally Laura whispered, “Say yes, honey.”

“Yes honey!” he repeated. 

“Very good,” Elosha said. She handed Cyrus an ebony figurine of Zeus. “Having taken this charge willingly, you become a man in the eyes of the gods. Sam?”

Sam stepped forward and accepted the stone _dexameni_ of henna and primitive quill Elosha handed him. “Hold out your wrist, buddy,” Sam said softly to Cyrus. “You’re a man of the Tauron now, for always.”

Cyrus watched, fascinated, as Sam painted the traditional mark of Tauron onto the underside of his wrist. Phineus and Sephie moved closer to the altar, propping their chins on the desk to watch the marking ceremony. Laura could see them both fidgeting, the cost of not speaking up and demanding “me too” obviously paining them both dearly. 

_Maybe Bill bribed them_ , she thought gratefully, as moments passed and the twins yet remained quiet.

Sam’s hand shook as he finished his task. “That’s your mark of faithfulness to the soil, your mark of manhood,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss Cyrus’s cheeks, the left then the right. “Ha’la’tha.”

Sam turned to Isabelle, lifting her from Elosha’s arms. “My mother’s name lives on through you, Isabelle Adama.”

“Roslin-Adama,” Bill corrected quietly, and Laura didn’t think it was possible to love Bill any more than she did in that moment.

“The mark of protection,” Elosha said, keeping the ceremony on task. 

Sam smiled at Laura in acknowledgment and handed the baby to her. “You’ll be faithful to each other,” Sam said to the two youngest children. “As Roslin-Adamas.” 

Isabelle began to cry as Sam started painting the coordinating mark on the back of her wrist. Laura held her close and made soothing noises, but it wasn’t until Cyrus got her attention by waving his new mark on front of her face that she became distracted enough to stop. “Look, Belly! You get one too!”

That was the final straw for Sephie. “I want one too, daddy,” she pouted, tugging at Bill’s sleeve. “Me next, me next.”

Bill reached down and swung her up to his hip, groaning a bit at the movement that had once been so facile. “Shh,” he said, patting her back. “You’re getting new sneakers if you’re good for the entire ceremony, remember?”

“But I want mark of manhood,” she said through wibbly lips, albeit not nearly as loudly as she was capable of being.

Phin was just looking on in interest, his green eyes wide, as Sam finished Isabelle’s protected mark. Bill set Sephie down next to him, and Phin looked over to his sister and draped his arm over her shoulders. “We don’t need one ‘cause we’re twins, Sephie. Don’t you want new pyramid shoes more than you want a mark?”

Sephie grumbled in response, but piped down, obviously soothed by Phin’s proximity. 

The henna dried quickly, and Bill lifted Cyrus up so that he could lean in to kiss both of Isabelle’s cheeks, as Sam had done to him.

Elosha took a bunch of sage from the altar and lit the end with one of the candles, then waved it over the heads of each of the children. “Protected and protector,” she said, lingering the burning sage over Isabelle and Cyrus. “So she is named, so he is chosen.”

“So say we all,” responded the adults together. 

Elosha tossed her burning sage into a small bowl of water, extinguishing it, and looked up with a bright smile. “So how about a family photo?”

“I’ll get my camera,” Larry offered. “Be right back.”

Laura saw Sam moving to slip into the dining room. “Oh no, _theios_. Get back here.”

Sam nodded and returned, picking up Sephie with hardly a grimace. She grinned and lay her head against his shoulder, tracing the marks on the side of his neck with her little finger.

 _Figures that she’d be attracted to the tattoo marking him as an assassin_ , Laura thought wearily. But the giggling bundle in her arms pushed away the thought. She and Bill stood together holding Isabelle and Cyrus, with Sam and Sephie on Laura’s other side. Once he’d handed the camera to the priest, Larry and Phin stood next to Bill. 

“Smile, everyone,” Elosha said, as she took several shots of the group. Once the group began to disperse, Bill leaned closer to Laura, Cyrus still on his hip. “Love you so much,” he said.

Laura smiled and rubbed her cheek against his rough one briefly before whispering her response in his ear. “Not possibly as much as I love you,” she said. “And tonight...I’ll show you.”


	12. Tauron Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins turn seven, and Tsattie brings the party.

 

The knock was light, like a cat that wanted to be fed; _thump thump thump thump_. And nearly as insistent.

But it wasn’t the cat. “Mama?” whined a soft voice through a slowly widening crack between door and jamb.

 _Maybe it’s a dream_ , Laura thought hopefully. As she came closer to consciousness, she remembered that there was already a small child nestled in the middle of the wide king bed. _What’s one more, as long as Cy doesn’t wake her up?_

“Come on in, sweetie,” she whispered back, trying not to wake Isabelle and Bill.

Cyrus padded softly across the bedroom floor to Laura’s bedside. “I can’t sleep,” he said seriously. “Tsattie snores louder than Daddy.”

Laura bit back her laugh; if that was true, poor Cy must have been having a tough time of it indeed. She hadn’t known what she was subjecting him to.

“Climb on up,” she offered, pulling back the coverlet. She could see his small white teeth gleaming in the moonlight as he grinned and tucked himself between Laura and Isabelle.

“Thanks, Mommy,” Cyrus said. “I think I’ll sleep now.”

“Me too,” she whispered, giving him a squeeze as Bill and Isabelle slept on.

 

It couldn’t have been more than three hours later when the same tell-tale knock occurred, albeit a much more forceful one. Dual giggling confirmed Laura’s suspicion. Unlike Cyrus, Sephie didn’t wait for Laura to tell her to come in.

“We wanna get in bed, too,” Sephie demanded.

“Shh, quiet, Seph,” Phin warned. “You’ll wake Isabelle.”

It was Bill who woke first, as Sephie climbed on top of him. “Ow! What the--”

“Sorry, Dad,” Sephie said unapologetically. “Belly, _move over_.”

“There’s not room,” Phin said.

“Try this side, Phin,” Laura offered.

“Hang on,” Bill said. He blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes, and carefully lifted two-year-old Isabelle onto his chest. Sephie fell into the empty spot immediately and flung her arm across Cyrus, smacking him in the face with her arm.

“Ow!” Cyrus cried. “What?!”

“We play now?” said a suddenly alert Isabelle, trying to push herself up into a sitting position.

“No, Belly, we sleep,” Laura said.

Phin climbed up from the foot of the bed and slipped between Cyrus and Sephie. “Warm.”

Bill tried to coax Isabelle into laying down again, rubbing her back. “Shhh. Quiet down, everyone.”

“It’s still sleepy-time,” Laura added.

“It’s almost light out,” Sephie countered.

“Then go back to your room, sweetheart,” Laura said. “This bed is for sleeping only.”

Bill smirked at Laura from across the sea of children. Isabelle yawned, put her head back down against Bill’s chest, then farted loudly.

“Stinky, Belly,” Cyrus commented.

Sephie grimaced and pulled the sheet up over her and Phin’s heads.

“I can’t breathe!” Phin squealed.

Isabelle began to bawl.

“Better than near Belly stinky-butt,” came Sephie’s voice from beneath the covers.

“Persephone Jane,” Laura said. “Calm down, quiet down, or leave.”

“Night-night,” Cyrus said, looking perfectly content using Laura’s upper arm in lieu of a pillow.

Laura leaned over and kissed his forehead, then reached across Cy to pull the sheet back from over Phineus’s face. “Better?” she asked, smoothing his dark hair back from his eyes.

He nodded and shifted closer to Cyrus and Laura. Sephie turned as well, taking on the role of the big spoon to Phin’s small one.

“Get off me, Sephie,” he mumbled halfheartedly.

“Fine,” she said, dramatically turning over and burrowing against Bill.

Bill was trying to soothe Isabelle. “Ever seen a little light before the dawn of the light. Got me a Belly by a stream...gonna tell her all my dreams…”

“Daddy, your singing’s so bad,” Sephie interrupted him.

“I wike stream song,” Isabelle said sleepily.

“Me too, Belle,” Laura said, turning her head to smile at Bill. That song always transported her back to a time, early in their courtship; a late-evening picnic on the outskirts of Qualai, snuggling on a blanket beneath the stars. Bill had pointed out his ship, docked just beyond the Caprican atmosphere for the length of his four-day shore leave. They hadn’t made love that night, but laying there with her head on his shoulder and her hand over his heart, she’d known to a certainty that they would.

“ _Why_ , Mom?” Sephie said. “It doesn’t even make sense.”

Laura directed her smile to their daughter. “Someday I’ll tell you.”

Bill blindly reached his hand toward Sephie and tousled her unruly red curls. “I’ll stop singing if you go back to sleep, Seph.”

She sighed loudly, but closed her eyes compliantly and eventually joined her siblings in a light sleep.

 

At the next knock, the room was beginning to fill with light and the children were considerably more sprawled than how they had started out. Laura strained to lift her head and realized that there were some wonderful home-cooked smells filling the room along with the day’s first rays.

“Morning, Ruth,” Laura said, nudging Cyrus’s arm off her stomach. “I take it you’ve found everything okay?”

“Everything except my roommate,” Tsattie replied. “I figured he must have come in here, but I didn’t expect to find all six of you.”

The twins had woken up during the exchange. “Tsattie!” Phin exclaimed, scampering down and off the bed to give her a hug.

“Ow,” Cyrus said. “Phin, you hurt my leg.”

“I wanted to see if I could find some helpers to make breakfast with me,” Tsattie said.

“Sure!” Sephie loved to please her grandmother, and she scrambled out of bed as well.

Sensing the commotion, Isabelle began to stir. She began patting Bill’s face. “Dada!”

“Hmmmm?” Bill shook his head, trying to avoid the small hand. “I’m up, I’m up.”

“You don’t have to be,” Tsattie said. “I’ll take the children downstairs and give them breakfast. You two sleep a bit more.”

“Ruth, you’re a gift from the gods,” Laura said. “Cyrus, will you help Tsattie with Isabelle?”

“Yes, mama. I’ll put on the Muffit video.”

“Good boy.” With a groan, she lifted him over her body and placed him on his feet at the side of the bed.

“Come on!” Sephie was already halfway down the stairs, a flash of red curls and pink pajamas.

“I’ll have some breakfast ready for you in about an hour,” Tsattie said as she lifted Isabelle up from Bill’s chest. Isabelle eyed her warily, but stayed quiet.

“Thanks, Tsattie.” Bill sat up and gave his grandmother a kiss on the cheek.

“Just like old times,” she said with a knowing wink.

Laura blushed and pulled the blankets over her head, finally able to curl up against her husband. She waited until she heard the door close to throw them back off.

“Sleep well?” Bill asked rhetorically.

“Well enough,” Laura responded, turning her body in his arms so that her back was pressed to his front.

He began lazily stroking her arm, bare but for her tattoos. "We've got a lot of things that need to get done before the party tomorrow," Bill said, his voice low and breath hot against her ear. "Maybe we should just get up."

Moving fluidly, Laura twisted to face him and threw one leg over his body, pinning him in place. "Are you kidding?" She leaned down to lightly nip at his earlobe. "Not a chance."

"Yes, sir," Bill said, grinning before he kissed her.

 

* * *

 

"Tell me another story, Tsattie," Sephie begged.

"Please," added Phin.

Laura had banished them both from the kitchen, where she was setting up the food for the twins' birthday party. Between their asking when the uncles would arrive and provoking Cy and Isabelle, who were placidly coloring at the small plastic table in the corner, she'd given up on getting them to help and told them to go find their grandmother.

“About Ha’la’tha,” Laura heard Sephie say.

Laura sighed; Sam and Larry must have been telling Sephie more than Laura knew.

“Well,” Ruth began. “You see this tattoo, here?” She pulled the collar of her knit shirt down so that the kids could inspect the dark lines beneath the fleshy skin of her neck.

“It’s an arrow?” Phin guessed.

“Not quite,” Tsattie said. “It’s a dagger.”

“Cool!” Sephie was impressed.

“I got the tattoo when I first established myself within the Ha’la’tha,” Ruth said. “Each line that got added to it represents another job I got done.”

 _Don’t ask her,_ Laura silently urged, _what her job was._

“What was your job, Tsattie?” Phin asked.

“I had several,” she replied. “I operated a safe house for a while. Then I moved on to offsite work.”

“Where, Tsattie?” Sephie was rapt.

“Here on Tauron, then later, on Caprica.”

“That’s where we used to live!”

“That’s right,” Ruth said. “So when I started out in the organization, I was just cooking, and cleaning, and sometimes doing some driving.”

“Who were you driving?” Phin asked.

“Uh...other freedom fighters,” she said. “But sometimes, bad people would be out in the city, and I would have to practice my self-defense.”

Twin gazes blinked at their grandmother, not understanding.

“I got good at fighting,” she explained further. “First with my feet and fists. Then, I got my first set of daggers.”

“Daggers? Awesome,” Sephie said.

“Much more elegant than a gun,” Tsattie said, “and easier on the hands than a garotte.”

“You _stab_ people, Tsattie?” Phin asked, his eyes huge.

“Not for a long time, darling,” she said in reply, draping her arm over his shoulders and pulling him close in a comforting hug. “Things were different, then.”

 _Lords, I hope so,_ Laura thought as she began washing a sink full of dishes left over from food preparations.

“How many people?” Sephie wanted to know.

“Well,” Tsattie replied, “each line over the dagger represents a different job.”

Phin leaned in and started counting. “One...two…”

“Shut up, Phinny,” Sephie demanded. “I wanna hear more story.”

“Forty-two,” Tsattie supplied.

“Wow!” Sephie bounced up and down on the loveseat.

“Who gave you the daggers?” Phin asked.

Laura wanted to know the answer to that question as much as her inquisitive son. Leaving the remaining dishes for after the party, she took a look around the kitchen and deemed it passable for entertaining. She could keep an eye on Cy and Isabelle from the living room if she sat on the couch, and sat down quietly, not wanting to interrupt the tale.

“Well,” Tsattie began, “his name was Aron.”

 

_* * *_

_“You don’t have to do this, Ruth,” Aron said, sweeping her hair away from her face so he could look tenderly into her eyes. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, anchoring her in place. “You’re already made. You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone.”_

_“It’s not about that,” she huffed, annoyed that he would even suggest that her decision might be selfishly motivated. “It’s about retribution. That frakking Leonese cell is responsible for Sarai’s death. I need to be there.”_

_It had been nearly six months since her younger sister was killed in a cafe bombing, and the pain still felt as raw in her gut as it had been when it first settled there when Aron came into Connie’s, looking more sorrowful than she’d ever seen him. And they’d seen their share of sorrows._

_Sarai wasn’t even involved in the resistance. She’d been collateral damage, the wrong place at the wrong time; a university student, and the only family Ruth had left. Ruth hadn’t gone to university herself, and she’d been so proud of Sarai for continuing her education. She’d thought that her little sister might even have a shot at making it off-world someday. But between the Virgonese, the Leonese, and finally the Hercs, there was always a group wanting to step in and run Tauron, to suppress the fierce independence of the Tauron people and exploit the planet’s vast mineral resources._

_She and Aron had known each other since they were children playing pick-up pyramid games in the old neighborhood. But very little about that time was idyllic. They’d both experienced loss early on. They’d found their way into the Ha’la’tha separately, but for similar reasons, and had quickly teamed up to support one another. He was her best friend._

_“I’m going to be there,” she insisted. He knew her better than anyone; she couldn’t understand why he seemed to think that she shouldn’t take part in the raid. Some heads would roll, to be sure, but hers wouldn’t be one of them._

_“I just worry about you,” he admitted._

_“Don’t,” she said, her voice sharp. She worried about him, too--he was always volunteering for the riskiest jobs, and she was more likely to find out about it from the clientele at Connie’s than from him--but she wasn’t telling him not to go._

_“Can’t help it,” he said, and suddenly his hand was at her waist, and his lips were getting closer--_

_“Ruthie! We gonna get some more coffee anytime soon?” bellowed a low voice from the other side of the swinging doors._

_“I have to get that,” she said breathlessly, her eyes searching his. “I’ll see you tonight.”_

_When she got back to her station after refilling drinks and serving up bowls of spicy stew, he was gone, but there was a box with her name written on it._

_She briefly considered waiting until her shift ended to see what was inside, but her curiosity couldn’t be suppressed. The small box had a surprising heft to it as she lifted it._

 

* * *

 

The front door opened, and Sam and Larry filed in, followed by Bill, who was carrying a large sheet cake.

“Hey, Tsattie,” Sam said, leaning down to give his surrogate grandmother a kiss. “About time you made it out here.”

“Samuel. And Larry! It has been too long,” she said. “I was just telling the little ones a story about the old days.”

Larry raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You sure that’s appropriate?”

“Perfectly,” she said with a withering glance in his direction.

“We are seven today, Uncle Larry,” Phin informed him. “That’s pretty old, you know.”

Tsattie rolled her eyes at Phin’s pronouncement.

“I know, bud. Happy birthday, and happy birthday,” Larry said to each of the twins.

“What are you telling them, Tsattie?” Bill came in from the kitchen with Isabelle on his hip and Cyrus’s hand in his own. Bill sat down next to Laura with the baby on his lap, and Cy crawled up into Laura’s. Sam and Larry found chairs, as well; Tsattie had everyone’s attention.

“Oh, just some ancient history,” she said vaguely.

“We were just getting to the good part,” Sephie said. “You were about to open the box.”

“Ah, yes,” Tsattie said.

“Box?” Bill asked. “What box?”

“I think it had daggers in it,” Phin guessed.

“I was working as a waitress at Connie’s,” Tsattie filled in the newcomers. “It was the inspiration for Goldie’s, back in Little Tauron--you remember Goldie’s, of course, Bill. And there was going to be a big raid; the plan was to take out some high-ups in the Leonese occupying force while they were carousing.” The distaste on her face was evident even now, some seventy years later.

“Tsattie had a boyfriend,” Sephie added.

“Not quite. Not yet, ” Tsattie said. “But we cared about one another very much.”

 

_* * *_

_“Oh, Aron,” Ruth said when she lifted the top from the box and pulled back the tissue._

_Inside the box was a set of twin daggers, each one about six inches long. Long enough to inflict mortal damage, while still easily concealable in a sleeve or from a belt. It looked like he intended for her to wear them in the former fashion, as there were adjustable leather sheaths in the box as well._

_She removed one of the daggers and inspected it under the light of the bread warmer. There was intricate etched scrollwork all along the handle, while the blade itself was gleaming pristine steel. A single blood-red ruby adorned each hilt._

_There was a note, too._ Mars be with you _, it said._ Love, Aron. __

_Later, it was his face she saw in her mind’s eye as she carried out her work in the name of her sister. And it was his arms that wrapped around and held her close after the team returned to the safe house and the adrenaline ebbed, leaving her twitchy and unsettled._

* * *

 

“Ah, I remember those days well,” Sam commented.

“Me too,” said Larry. He stroked Sam’s arm soothingly.

“Have to say, I don’t miss it,” Sam said.

“So did you end up with Aron?” Sephie wanted to know.

“Of course,” Tsattie said. “We moved in together a few weeks later. And a year after that, our daughter Shannon was born.”

“You had a baby?” Cyrus asked, looking from Tsattie to Isabelle.

“Did you keep working as an assassin, Tsattie?” Sephie asked.

“I did have a baby. My daughter grew up and married Joseph Adama, and that’s why _we_ \--” she gestured around the room “--are family,” she said. “And yes, Sephie. I kept working until long after she and I moved to Caprica when she was young.”

“Just the two of you?” Phin asked. “What about Aron?”

“He returned to the soil,” she said, her voice slightly strained with emotion. “Toward the end of the Third Occupation. I left Tauron not long after.”

Phin snuggled closer to his grandmother, and Sephie patted her hand in what Laura thought was a surprising show of empathy from her daughter.

“I never knew that’s what prompted your move to Caprica, Ruth,” Sam remarked.

“It’s what’s kept me away, all these years,” she said. “Too many memories, best tucked away.” Her gaze rested on Bill and Laura across the room and grew wistful. “You know, if you were to have another boy, Aron would be a good name.”

Laura started to explain that it was out of the question, but Bill’s squeeze to her knee interrupted her nascent protestations.

“And Ruth would be a good one for a girl,” he said.

 

* * *

 

“Tsattie, I don’t want you to go!” Sephie cried. She wrapped her arms around Ruth’s leg, and Phin moved to do the same on the other side.

“Ah-ah,” Laura said, catching him by the back of his collar. “You’ll take Tsattie out. Be gentle.”

“Take out?” Sephie said, stepping back and looking up at her grandmother with a grin. “That’s what Tsattie said I should do!”

“Oh?” Laura said.

“I’ll be back for good in a few weeks,” Ruth said smoothly. “I just need to take care of some things back home.”

“Yeah, like get our daggers,” Phin said.

 _”Oh?”_ Laura said again.

“Tsattie’s giving us the daggers that Aron gave her,” Sephie said, and dropped the register of her voice in an attempt to mimic Ruth. “If a young man tries to get fresh--”

“Take that motherfrakker _out_!” the twins finished together.

“I must have missed this part of the story,” Laura said.

“Don’t worry, Laura,” Tsattie said. “I told them they could have my daggers, but that you would hold onto them for them.”

“We’ll be happy to have you and your daggers back here with us soon, Ruth,” she said.

The twins beamed, probably relishing the fact that Laura hadn’t said _no_. She really had come a long way, she realized.

“‘Scuse me, pardon me, coming through,” Bill said, making his way down the stairs with Tsattie’s bags past Cy and Isabelle, who were sitting on the bottom step, trying to read a book to the cat. “All ready?”

“Ready,” Ruth said, giving each of the children a kiss before turning to Laura. “Thank you, dear. For bringing me back out here at last. It’s been so wonderful...I was a fool to stay away.”

Laura hugged Ruth tightly. “No, thank you,” she said. “None of this would have happened-- none of the kids would have even been born-- if you hadn’t shared that recipe with me all those years ago.”

Ruth laughed. “I don’t know about _that_ , but maybe it moved things along a bit. And for that, I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Bill said, ruffling Phin’s hair, “but we’ve got to get going if Tsattie’s going to make her transport.”

Laura picked up Isabelle and ushered the kids to the front stoop so they could wave goodbye as Bill walked Tsattie down the walkway to the waiting car.

“Bye Tsattie!” Cyrus called. “Next time bring me a present, too? And more stories!”

“You got it, buddy,” she called back. “See you soon!”


End file.
